Your Hell Burns, Mine Glitters
by AnaRose17
Summary: Not every girl opposes to a soulless man; Alexandria Hallberg is one of them. After her mother's brutal murder, she meets the Winchesters and gets a little more than she asked for. Set Season 6, Sam/OC.
1. Dimestore Diamond

**Hey again! :) **

**While working on the sequel to 'Fill This Void With Your Poison', I came up with a different story and thought I'd give it a try. :) Please let me know what you think. **

###

"Hey," Dean stopped in the hallway and pointed into the adjoining drawing room.

Sam took his hand of the door handle, turned back and followed his brother's gaze unwillingly. They had questioned Mark Hallberg and gotten nothing valuable from him, so he just wanted to get on and not waste one more second in this swanky mansion that stunk of filthy richness from every marble tile.

"What?" He asked, trying his best not to sound exasperated.

Dean ignored him, walked into the other room and held up a picture to show it to Sam. It showed a younger Mark, an unknown woman, probably his wife, and two children, a boy and a girl.

"He's got a daughter, too?"

"I'd say so. Let's see," Dean looked around and caught one of the maids. "Excuse me."

"Yes, sir?" The middle-aged Hispanic woman stepped closer.

"Is this Mr Hallberg's daughter?"

The maid looked at the picture and a melancholic expression crossed her face. "Yes, that's dear Alexandria."

Sam frowned at the name – an ancient Egyptian city, seriously? – but managed to shut up about it.

"Sweet girl, a lot like her mother. She…" The woman shook her head, "I'm sorry, it's neither mine to tell nor of import."

Dean frowned and wondered what she had meant to say, but didn't ask. "You know where we can find her?"

"She'll probably be at work."

"Work?" Sam huffed and looked around the opulence around him. "Why the hell would she work?"

An almost protective, motherly expression crossed the elderly woman's face. "Miss Alexandria is different. I will write down the address for you."

Twenty minutes later, Dean parked the Impala in front of the shabby bar.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"This has got to be some kind of joke. You sure this is the right address?"

Dean looked at the piece of paper the maid had given him and then at the street sign. "Yup, this is definitely it."

The brothers looked at each other, almost like in old times, before they sighed simultaneously and stepped out.

"Her father makes a couple of millions a year, and his daughter works…_here_?"

"Probably a rebellious phase. What are you willing to bet she's pierced all over, too?"

"I think she's more of a tattoo type."

"Black, short hair and too much make-up."

"Ripped clothes, high school drop out."

#

"Your table, June."

June looked up and to the other end of the bar, whose interior had seen better times but hadn't reached the final stage of dilapidation yet. Her eyes scanned the two guys who'd just come in; they looked out of place in their suits, but oddly enough, they still fit in. Maybe it was the roughness in their edged faces, the wild look in their eyes, that made them fall in line with the other shady characters and crushed existences that swarmed this place like moths the light after eleven p.m.

June shook her head and told herself to stop thinking so much. Slipping a note with some orders onto the counter, she then performed her well-rehearsed dance through tables and stools and greeted the newcomers with her usual smile. "Good evening, what can I get you?"

#

'Her demeanour doesn't fit in here,' it briefly occurred to Sam as he appreciatively looked over the leggy blonde with the sexy ass that seemed to be their waitress for that night. At least, _something_ went right today. 'She looks too unspoilt for a rundown bar like this.'

"Two beers, please."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's it for now, thanks."

The waitress – June, according to her name tag - nodded and disappeared again, giving the brothers a nice view of her swaying rear.

"Sam."

"Hm."

"_No._"

"What?"

"No chicks during a case."

"Oh, come on, Dean-"

"No. I'm your conscience, and I'm telling you no."

"It was your idea to go talk to this girl, at least, let me get something out of it. We should be hunting down that killer, Dean, not talk to spoilt millionaire daughters."

"I know, I know, but my gut feeling just tells me it'd be worth checking what Alexandria Hallberg knows, alright?"

Sam rolled his eyes and then turned his attention back to the curvy blonde that was just preparing their beers.

#

"They're hot, huh?"

"What?" June looked up at her colleague Belinda in confusion.

The all-over tattooed brunette jerked her head in the direction of the two officials. "Those two. _Steaming_ hot."

"Right," June replied. If there was anything she despised, it was superficiality. Sure enough, the two men were extremely good-looking; but she couldn't shake the tingling feeling, like prickling ice, that their stares had left on her back. It hadn't been the usual 'checking out her butt' stare… she couldn't pin it down, she just knew something with those two men was different.

'If thinking hurt, June, you'd be in agony 24/7,' She sighed to herself, grabbed those two beers and steered herself through the crowded bar again.

#

"Here you go," The young woman smiled as she placed the bottles in front of them.

"Thanks… listen, do you happen to know an Alexandria Hallberg working here?"

June straightened up, hugged the tray to her body and sighed: "What's her brother done now?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other.

"Her brother? Nothing, as far as we know, at least… we're just here to talk to her."

"And you are?"

"Agents Holt and Wilson, FBI."

June gave an absent-minded nod, wondering what the hell the Feds were doing here. Then again, she had a vague idea. "This about the murders?"

"You know about those?"

"Hard not to with people around you being torn to shreds."

"Right. Well, anyways, back to Alexandria Hallberg. We understand one of the victims was her boyfriend…"

"Ex-boyfriend," June threw in resolutely. "Anyways, what's this got to do with me?"

"Um…" Dean looked at Sam, who was equally surprised, if not clueless. "You… are Alexandria?"

"Afraid so. June's my second name," She supplied as she caught the agents' confused glances at her name tag. "Look, agents… um, my shift's over in half an hour. If you'd wait, I'd be more than glad to talk to you…"

"That's fine. We'll wait."

June nodded and was gone again, her mind racing. The FBI. At the same time, it calmed and worried her. Calmed, because it meant she wasn't going crazy and seeing ghosts, and worried, because she now wondered where this would go instead, if not twilight zone.

"So, I guess no hook-up for you tonight," Dean smirked and leaned back, taking the beer to his lips.

"Says who?"

"Come on, dude, even you cannot hit that. Well, I guess you could, but…" Dean shook his head. "Anyways."

"Right."

The brothers fell silent.

#

At midnight, June went into the back of the bar and changed her clothes, slipping on jeans, a hot pink top and black blazer and heels.

"You going home?" Belinda asked as June passed her.

"Oh, um…" June was saved from replying by her friend being called into the kitchen. Using the opportunity, she became one with the crowd and disappeared into the back. Smoothly, she slipped onto the seat beside the tall one so she wouldn't have his intense eyes on her, but instead the other's comforting green ones.

"What do you want to know?"

Sam felt the warmth radiating from the body beside his, and found his eyes travelling down June's lush cleavage. This girl definitely wasn't what he had expected; maybe Dean had been right to look into this. Worst payout was a night with a millionaire's sexy daughter; best payout was that _and_ a captured monster on top.

But it would soon become clear that June wasn't that easy a girl; she wasn't silly, she wasn't promiscuous, she wasn't spoilt. In short; she was an impregnable fortress, slick, proud, reasonable and sensible.

Half-dead inside.

"You said Ike Holister was your ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, if he ever was my boyfriend in the first place," June huffed.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I somehow have a different idea of a boyfriend than someone who tries abusing you and getting to your father's money," She replied dryly. "But maybe that's just my overly romantic streak."

Dean looked at her understandingly but didn't say anything. "Do you have any connections to the other victims?"

June weighed her words carefully. "Yes. Tina Linton was my best friend before we had a major falling out some years ago and never spoke since then. Abraham Masters was my estranged cousin. But I've never heard of Jane Sanchez and Harry Kilmer before."

"You sure keep up with those murders," Sam remarked, and June flinched at the coldness in his voice.

"I suppose I am, yes. But it's not because I'm a murderer who likes to read about his work, but rather because…"

"Because what?"

"Nothing." June smiled so disarmingly, it even worked on Sam.

"So, Miss Hallberg… did you notice anything strange before those murders?"

"Strange, as in suspicious people wandering around in an applie-pie neighbourhood, or as in 'the victims talked of ghosts predicting their deaths'?" Dry as her tone was, one could almost believe June thought each possibility as likely as the other. Only her unmoved face revealed that she couldn't supply proof for either.

"What made you say that?"

"Say what, Agent Holt?" She raised her heaven-blue eyes at Dean.

Dean returned her gaze, and realized that this girl was too slick and ungraspable to get anything out of. She had a certain skill of weaselling her way out of her own words. Alexandria, or June, might turn out to be a hard nut to crack, and they didn't even know if it would be worth the hassle. She might not know anything.

"Look, agents, what happened to Tina and the others is horrible, and I feel so sorry for their families. But I'm afraid I cannot help you with who could have done this. As I said, I had no contact with any of the victims for years."

'Too smooth,' Sam thought, 'Way too smooth.'

"All I can tell you is that something about those murders seems …odd. Apart from the obvious of the victims being shredded to pieces and drained of all blood, that is."

"What do you mean?"

June cursed her lacking discretion and her big mouth that she was _usually_ able to keep quiet. "Nothing in particular," She shrugged.

Two pairs of eyes bored into her, and she had to put up quite an effort not to shrink back into the faded red leather seat. All her life she'd prided herself of her proud posture, and she'd be damned if she wavered now. "It's just a feeling I have."

"Feeling, like…?"

"I'm just a little more perceptive than others. Anyhow, I don't quite see yet how that has to do with the murders."

"Well, we're just checking every angle, and you, your father and brother are a common factor of all the murders."

"Wait, _all_ of them?"

Dean wondered whether to fill June in, but her ringing phone saved him from a decision.

"Excuse me, I have to get this," June's pretty face fell as she glanced at the caller ID and stood up.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, eyeing June as she stood aside, phone pressed to her ear and a disappointed, almost painful expression on her face.

"I think there's something that girl's not telling us, but I don't think she's responsible for the murders. She doesn't strike me as the killing type."

"Yeah, then again, neither did Madison. Or Ava."

"Touché." Dean looked at the girl, who looked to be in her early twenties. Something about her didn't fit. Her demeanour was…too clean, too smooth. She wasn't rebelling, at least, not openly; but she wasn't spoilt. She wasn't 'normal', either, so what was she and why?

"Um, agents, I'm sorry, but I have to go… but if there's any way I can help, you'll know where to find me." June scribbled something on a piece of paper she'd drawn out of her handbag. "And here's my cell…"

"Everything okay?"

June looked up in surprise, almost as if she wasn't used to concern. "Oh. Yeah. Just need to get home… Anyways. Good evening."

Sam and Dean watched her disappear, looked at each other and despite things not being as they used to be between them, they were thinking the same that second.

"Tail her?"

"Definitely."

#

June stepped into her '73 Impala, her heart as heavy as her thoughts dark.

When people looked at her, they saw the pretty, dumb daughter of a millionaire, whose worst worry was breaking a nail. Nobody ever bothered looking past that. Nobody had ever looked behind the fancy curtain and saw the scars, the still bleeding wounds and the need for love.

Why? Because nobody had ever cared; those who might have, thought everything was perfect and there was no need for care.

It sounded cliché; the misunderstood, rich child who just wanted to live a simple life; and it wasn't the truth. June didn't hate her father for being rich, for not caring for her as he should have. No, she blamed him for the circumstances, for what his obsession of money had cost them. That was the reason why she wanted nothing to do with his wealth, not because she was a rebel soul.

June wiped away a silent tear that had dared to creep over her cheek, leaving a thin trail of salty water behind.

"Why, Mom?" June sniffed and looked heavenwards before she stepped out of the car. "Just why?"

#

"This doesn't strike me as an area where a young woman should be alone at night," Dean remarked not without concern as he parked his Impala a couple of yards behind June's.

Sam didn't reply; he couldn't bring himself to care whether this girl brought herself in danger or not, though he should. Her blue eyes should have appealed to his protective instincts, and they would have, had he had any.

"Should we go after her or just wait?" Dean mused when June disappeared in the darkness of the badly lit streets. This district of Orlando definitely wouldn't go on his vacation list: Blackened or broken windows, bodies lurking in doorways that might have as well been dead, bars that looked as if their true business was money laundry, used injection needles scattered across the street… and June thought it to be a suitable place to be way after midnight? That definitely didn't scratch her off the suspect list.

"What are we looking for, again?"

"Signs," Dean replied simply. They didn't know yet what kind of monster they were hunting, and to be brutally honest, they were fishing in the dark. The only thing connecting all victims was the Hallberg family.

"Like June going all werewolf, or maybe vampire?"

"Yup. Like that." Dean pulled out a looking glass. "Ah, crap."

"What? She wolfing out?" Sam's body tensed, on the verge of jumping out of the car and, without even blinking, put a silver bullet in the chest of the girl he'd just been eager to bang.

"No," Dean sighed. "Worse, kind of."

Sam opened his mouth to ask what the hell he meant when he saw June reappear from the obscurity. She was supporting a young man, who was obviously dead-drunk if not stoned. Her face was resolute, but showed the hurt she felt, and it took Sam a second to recognize the guy she was shipping into her car. Brent Hallberg, June's brother.

Sam wasn't sure, but judging from Dean's sympathetic look, he figured that picking up her brother in this state was not a pleasant experience for a young girl. Alright, remember that. Personally, he didn't see what would be so painful about that, but he didn't feel like hearing yet another sermon about his heartlessness, so he just decided to go with Dean's 'empathy trip'.

Discreetly, Dean opened the window. Their voices carried through the night like gun shots, which were just as likely to fall in this part of town as rain.

"Get in the car, Brent." June's voice was calm, steady, but determined.

"You ma mother no'?"

June was too far away, otherwise the brothers would have seen the year old pain etching its way to the surface. "Brent, you called me, and here I am, to get your sorry ass off the street yet another time. So get in the damn car."

"Wha' if I don'?"

"Then you can see how you get home, if you don't get shot before you even sober up enough to know your own name."

"You a real bitch, you kno' tha'?"

June shook her head; Brent had called her so much worse in his drunken state, this barely stung anymore. "Whatever, Brent, you get in the car before I make you." June threw open the back door of her Impala. When her brother didn't show any sign of getting in, she groaned and roughly shoved him inside. Not out of viciousness; rather because she knew he wouldn't feel it and was, furthermore, immune to her soft coaxing. He wouldn't even remember it the next day.

June slammed the door close behind him, leaned against her car for a minute and allowed herself that moment of weakness. She ran a hand over her face and asked into the night, not knowing she'd be overheard: "Why, Mom?"

Dean looked at Sam, who just nodded slowly to the unspoken words between them: They knew what they had to do now.


	2. Blonde Trumps Hunter

"So, dug up what I could on Fiona Hallberg," Sam reached for his cup of coffee, not that he needed the caffeine but rather out of routine, "Married to Mark Hallberg in 1985... Two kids, Brent and Alexandria."

"Riveting. How is this important to the case?" Dean mumbled, disinterested, and took a big gulp of his own coffee.

Sam looked up, his expression too close to a victorious smile to be comfortable with, especially in connection with what followed his triumphant face: "Fiona Hallberg was murdered in her home 1998. Her body was torn, but no blood."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like…"

"The current-day Orlando murders, yeah. Think it's the same thing?"

"Well, it would make sense, considering that all victims are somehow connected with the Hallbergs…"

"Yeah, but what we're lacking is motive. Besides, if it's after the Hallbergs, why kill the mother, then thirteen years later friends and relatives? Wouldn't that kind of be stepping down?"

Sam stared at the screen, his uninhibited brain rattling through the facts on its search for a solution, but even he ran to a bunch of dead ends.

#

June opened her eyes and decided it was finally late enough to get up and avoid questions as to her well-being. All night, she'd twisted and turned in her bed, unable to fall asleep with her thoughts running amok inside her head.

She slipped on her silken morning robe, tied it loosely around her waist and strolled downstairs.

"Miss Alexandria, you're going to catch a cold walking around like that!"

June smiled. "Good morning, Lucia."

"What are you doing up so early, it's your holiday!"

"Couldn't sleep anymore," June replied evasively as she added in thought; 'Must be the excitement.'

The young woman set water to boil and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards in search for a decent kind of tea – her father only drank black tea, which she found disgusting – and a tea pot. Settling for a cranberry blend, June waited for the water to get hot.

"Did those two FBI agents find you last night?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes they did. Just asked routine questions…" Or maybe not so routine, June thought retrospectively.

She slipped two slices of bread in the toaster, prepared a cup of coffee and arranged everything on a tray. On second thought, she added a bottle of Tylenol to the breakfast before carrying it upstairs.

June opened the door with her elbow and set the tray down on Brent's nightstand. Her brother didn't move upon her entrance, and with a sigh, she walked over to the windows and pulled back the curtains she had drawn close just hours before when she'd brought Brent to bed.

A groan upon the sudden appearance of light marked Brent's arrival in the state of the waking.

"Morning, brother," June whispered gently and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. She ran a hand over his back comfortingly, coaxing him to wake up.

"What time is it?" He groaned.

"Nearly nine."

"And you woke me?"

"You've got to get to work, Brent." June reminded him, her tone soft as usual. She should reproach him for getting wasted once again, she should teach him a lesson and let him sleep so he'd miss work, she should have let him rot on the streets of downtown Orlando. She should have done all of the above years ago, but she never had. Too big the fear of losing her big brother was.

_Big_ brother. He should have been the one taking care of her, not the other way around. Never did Brent show any sign of true affection for his sister, no matter how much she deserved it.

But June had passed the point of being able to change anything about it, and now she just wanted to keep this family together as well as possible.

The doorbell rang, and June got up to get it.

"Hey, sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Then again, there were these small moments when June realized it was all worth it.

#

"Go easy, okay?" Dean reminded Sam.

"Dude, I know how to do my job."

"Yes, you do, but you know shit about empathy. So let me do the talking, alright?"

Sam frowned; unhappy would have been an understatement as to how he felt about this 'Jiminy Cricket – Pinocchio' agreement.

The door opened and made way to a seductive just-out-of-bed June, whose wine red silk robe had slipped from her shoulder just far enough to reveal the bare skin of her collarbone down to the gentle rise of her plump breasts. Blonde strands of hair falling lose from her bun, tickling the silky skin that Sam longed to run his hands over, slip down that robe completely...

"Agents," June smiled, and the forcedness behind it was almost invisible.

'Like someone who's used to put on a mask,' Dean thought.

"Please, come in," She opened the door wider and let them step inside. "I apologize for my appearance, if you'd just take a seat, I won't be a minute."

"No need to apologize, I assure you," Sam eyed her like a lion would eye a gazelle.

The gazelle smiled, uncommitted, and pranced away before the lion could even prepare to jump.

"Dude. What did I tell you?" Dean just said as they sat down on the white leather couches.

"Come on. You can't tell me you weren't thinking it, too."

"Big difference between thinking and actually saying it out loud, Casanova."

They were interrupted by June reappearing, dressed in black skinny jeans, a violet tank top and woollen jersey covering her pale skin. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. We just have a few more questions, then we'll be out of your way."

"Please, it's no bother."

Dean wondered if June really meant everything she said, or if she was just exceptionally good at making empty phrases sound meaningful. For sure, she was one hell of a polite person who knew her way around rhetoric.

"Look, Miss Hallberg… we understand this might be an unpleasant topic for you, but it's important for our case," Dean started. He knows talking about dead parents is nothing pleasant.

"We need to know what happened to your mother."

Dean shot a glare at Sam; what had he told him about insensitivity?

June didn't flinch, though. Her mom's death had been thirteen years ago, and over the years, she'd learned not to react to questions asked about her, but to just lock the memories she had of her mother inside her heart and never let them out. The person the cops and relatives talked about, the one they spoke their condolences for, the one they pitied her for losing; June had learned to differ that person from who her mother was when she was alive.

In her heart, Fiona was a lovable, lively and magnificent mother, not a case number.

So it was this case number she was thinking about when she replied: "It's all in the files, agent."

"We'd like to know what _you_ know," Sam's voice was unwavering, demanding and cold.

June raised her eyebrows and looked at the taller FBI agent more closely. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that before, and hell, she liked not being treated like fragile glass.

But _hell_ if that made her spill.

"What _I _know, Agent Wilson," June started coolly, "Is that I lost my mother when I was barely five years old, and that no cop was ever able to tell me what happened to her or why."

"You sure that's all?"

Dean shot Sam a 'What the f-ing hell' look.

"Yes. Why, is it not bloodthirsty enough for the FBI?"

"No, but you did just brush a hand through your hair, a very common gesture for when you're lying."

"Maybe," June replied, "But maybe it was simply a gesture of annoyance at the fact my hair keeps falling in my face."

"I don't think it was."

"You're very observant, agent, but I'm afraid that won't help you much."

Sam raised his eyes expectantly, while Dean wondered how the hell to get out of this one. This was so not going the way he expected.

"See, all your analysing and psychological insight might tell you _that_ I am hiding something, but it still doesn't tell you _what_ it is I may hide. So you might as well accept it was simply a gesture of annoyance, for the outcome is quite the same."

Sam huffed, and June returned his smile, but it was as empty an expression as Sam's. If anything, there was lewd impressiveness in their faces of the other's quick-wittedness.

"Alright, that'd be all for now, thank you," Dean got up and discreetly - more or less, anyways - kicked Sam to do the same.

June rose gracefully and saw them out.

The door fell into its fancy lock behind them, but Dean waited until they'd reached the Impala before he hissed: "Dude, what the hell was that?"

"What?" Sam asked, honestly clueless about his wrong-doing.

"'_What_'? You might as well have asked that girl directly to come back to the motel to get laid, after she's done talking about her murdered mother, that is. _Empathy_, man! And discretion, as the new lesson for today."

Sam shrugged, utterly unimpressed. What was the big deal? June had handled it just fine, so where was the problem, exactly? As to the discretion: It wasn't _his_ fault the girl had shown up half-naked at the door. She might as well have invited him to her bedroom directly.

"Oh, and another thing?"

"Dean…" What would come now?

"That girl's eighteen, Sam."

"And?"

"Verging on jailbait, dude." Dean just said and got in behind the wheel.

Sam shrugged; bait she was indeed, and quite a tempting one. Maybe, after they'd solved this case, he'd come back and see how steadfast those walls she'd built around herself with her polite distance and rhetorical skills really were.

As for the jail part of jailbait; well, he'd kept out of prison for more severe offences, he wouldn't get caught now. And she _was_ a consenting adult, after all, who sure as hell didn't look or behave like an eighteen year old, but rather like a twenty-something.

Besides, it wasn't like he had a conscience to hold him back.

#

June still felt the intensity of Agent Wilson's hazel eyes burning right through her, into every fibre of her body, as she watched them take off. She had felt something during that conversation… it had felt good, _alive_. At least one person who didn't go out of his way to suck up to her and to not tread on her feelings out of fear of her being mad or offended. The first person whose words jabbed at her, challenged her.

"Alex?"

She turned around. "Yeah."

"Have you seen my briefcase?"

June sighed, walked over to her brother and set his tie straight. "It's up in your office, Brent, and before you ask, your car keys are on your desk."

In a rare sibling moment, Brent smiled, kissed her cheek and said: "Where'd I be without you?"

"Good question," June sighed, long after Brent had left.

She was about to go upstairs to take a long hot bath when the door bell rang again. "Geez, what is it today?" June turned on the first step and unhurriedly strode through the entrance hall.

"Miss Hallberg?" Two men flashed their badges.

"Um…yeah?" June shook her head. "I mean, yes. How can I help you?"

"Agents Jason and Dutton, FBI."

'You don't say,' June thought and bid them in.

#

"I went through the coroner's reports again, and it seemed that with every attack, there seemed to have been less mutilation of the bodies," Sam mused as he skimmed through the various files again.

Dean stopped his pacing. "You're saying that this monster, whatever it is, got more skilled?"

"Seems like, yeah."

"Well, that's just great."

"We need to find that thing fast, before it kills again."

"Yeah, good idea, why don't you go over to your girlfriend and try _coaxing_ it out of her?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Maybe she's more talkative in horizontal position."

"Dude, enough already."

"You were the one checking out her ass, not me."

"No, I wasn't-"

Dean held up a hand to interrupt their 'conversation' and pulled out his phone. "Yeah."

A pause.

"Okay, thanks, sheriff." He hung up and looked at Sam. "There's been another one just now. Holly Simmons. Her husband found her, throat ripped open, not a drop of blood in her body."

"This starts to sound more and more like a vampire."

"Yeah, but… since when do vampires over-kill? I mean, one messy murder scene, that won't raise any suspicion, but six within little over a week? And all of the victims connected to the Hallbergs somehow, that doesn't strike me as an inexperienced newborn vamp on a killing spree."

"Yeah, you're right, something's off about this." Sam leaned back in his chair. "I still think we ought to get June to talk."

"Oh, so it's _June_ now?"

"Dude, enough, seriously. I'm not going to hit it off with an eighteen-year old."

"Right. Because your morals would prevent you from doing so. Oh, wait a second, you don't have any."

Sam debated whether to growl something in reply or just ignore it in the faint hope of Dean shutting up about it, when there was a fierce knock on their door.

The brothers looked at each other for a second before Sam got up to open.

There June stood, arms crossed before her chest, her eyebrows raised daringly and a no-nonsense expression on her face. "So, _agents_," She stepped into the room. A faint wave of blueberries and vanilla tickled Sam's nose, raking the desire to taste more. Strange, how even with his soul and therewith emotions gone, he could still feel desire and lust.

When June had reached about the centre of the motel room, she turned and looked at the brothers. No emotion betrayed her voice as she calmly, but determinedly said: "Do you want to tell me who you really are or should I ask the FBI for a little help?"

"How did you…?"

"It might have been your ride that ticked me off; after all, it doesn't seem very likely that federal agents drive a rebuilt '67 Impala. Then again, maybe it was the fact that this morning, I was visited by another pair of FBI agents, right after you left. I'm not a big fan of bureaucracy and authorities, but I'm pretty sure that asking the same questions twice by different teams isn't usual procedure." June smiled, "Plus, after I found you stayed in a motel like this while the other two are accommodated more Hilton-like, it wasn't too hard to figure out who wasn't legit."

"Alright, you got us," Dean sighed, "And you get two brownie points for the acknowledgement of the Impala."

June chuckled. "Like hell I do, yes. You know what else is interesting? That the other 'agents' asked me if I had seen two men that funnily enough fit your description."

"Well, what'd you tell them?" Sam challenged as he leaned against the cupboard, crossing his arms in front of his muscular chest. June saw his muscles rippling as he did, and she had no doubt he could snap her neck in one swift motion; despite that and her being not only outnumbered but also absolutely overpowered, she didn't feel afraid.

"That I had never seen you two in my life, but would surely keep an eye out and if they would please catch the killer soon so I could sleep safely again," June replied, mocking her own words. "Hysterical, dumb blonde always works to keep you off the suspect list."

"Well, you seem like a smart girl, so why on earth would you seek us out and not deliver us on a silver plate to the feds?"

"It may not win me the Nobel prize, fair enough. I came here because I think that whoever you two are, you're most likely to stop whatever's going on out there. The feds can't do crap about this."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, then back at her. "June… how much do you know?"

The girl looked at them, and suddenly, there was a depth in her blue eyes that showed how hurt a soul was hiding behind the smooth surface, begging to be discovered and saved but at the same time afraid of precisely that. "Of what's lurking in the dark? More than I'd like to."

"Alright," Dean got up, "I think it's time we have a talk."

###

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	3. French Cuisine

"Whiskey?"

"Gladly," June sighed in reply.

"And one more brownie point for you," Dean smirked as he slid a filled glass across the plastic motel table.

"Do I get a pony when I've collected ten?" Subtle sarcasm dripped from her voice, and it suited her a lot better than the marble surface of her usual politeness.

"What, Daddy didn't get you one for your birthday yet?"

June glanced up at Sam, not one muscle in her face flinching. "No, not quite. Daddy got me a fancy Ferrari to try compensating for his lacking father qualities. I exchanged it for a rusty '73 Impala before I drove just one mile. But hey, in the end, they're all horses, so, sure, if it suits your philosophy better, Daddy bought me a pony." She took a sip of her whiskey. "So, before I share my life's story, I'd really like to know _who_ I'm sharing it with."

"Well, I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean."

June was about to reply something along the sarcastic lines of 'Thanks for the insight', but refrained from it, having a feeling she didn't really want to know more. These two guys seemed uncomfortably comfortable with posing as government officials, who knew what they were up to. That they apparently knew a scary lot of what was really out there didn't quite make them any less dangerous.

Hell, what had she been thinking, coming here? Where had her intellect been when she made that decision, on vacation?

Anyhow, too late to turn back now.

"So, back to what you know…"

June raised her almost disturbingly blue eyes to look first at Dean, sitting opposite her, then at Sam, who stood a couple of feet away, leaning nonchalantly against the cupboard. "If I get just one damn pitiful look from either of you, I swear to God I'll start swinging, not caring about how badly I'll probably get my ass kicked."

"Look at that, Ms Millionaire speaks French."

"Naturellement, mon chérie."

Sam let out something between a huff and a chuckle, wondering just how qualified in French specialties June was.

The humour disappeared from their conversation when Dean leaned forward and asked with those stunning green eyes penetrating June right down to her heart: "Why would you expect pitiful looks?"

"What do you know about my mother's death?"

"Only that she was torn up pretty bad and lost a lot of blood," Dean phrased carefully.

"Yeah, of course, that would be one way of saying it." June emptied her glass, "Would you pour me another one?"

Dean did so wordlessly.

June took a sip, licked the amber liquid off her full bottom lip and then tonelessly said: "I suppose the police files, whatever illegal way you got them over, didn't say that Fiona's five-year old daughter saw the whole thing. Saw the man break through the window, an impressive set of fangs extended, attacking her mother and ripping her to shreds while sucking every drop of blood from her body. Then spending the rest of her life denying what she saw that night because of course there's no such thing as vampires, as the useless therapist assured her," She smiled bitterly.

"Sorry," Dean simply said, neither knowing how to comfort a girl who had to watch her mother die a gruesome death nor if she even wanted comforting words. It didn't seem like it.

"Should have seen my therapist's bill. I made him one rich man." She pressed her lips together and took another taste of the cheap whiskey. Felt it burn its way through her body and warming her from the inside when nothing else could. "So, um, with all those other killings, I just need to know… what I saw back then…. Is it real?"

"Yes," Sam replied mercilessly.

June nodded slowly. "I guess I was right not to hand you over to the law, then. You seem more capable than the actual officials."

"Glad to hear at least someone sees it that way."

"Doesn't happen often, huh?"

"You could say that."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," June swirled the liquid in her glass.

Sam let out a gruff and looked at her sceptically. "You do?"

"What, know how it feels not to be taken seriously, to just be smiled down upon and virtually see people thinking 'poor little rich girl, Daddy doesn't believe her'? Yeah, I know how that goes, thank you. And spare me the doubtful looks, I've had enough of those all my life. Look, I know my life may seem all 'apple pie with a cherry on top', but believe me, money isn't everything. It doesn't substitute family. Money got me the best therapists, but it didn't get my own father to listen to me and care. It didn't save my mother, and it sent my brother right down that fiery road of drugs and alcohol."

Sam and June looked at each other, evaluating the other and their strengths and weak spots; both finding neither had a chink in the armour because they held up that un-dentable shield of not revealing emotions.

"So, what now? Has that…" June took a breath, "Vampire come back?"

Realizing this girl wouldn't need a sugarcoated way into this, Dean pulled the laptop towards them, along with the files. "We're not sure; either way, we think that whatever is doing this is in someway related to your family."

"Related, as in shares blood, or rather related as in business relationship?" June looked through the pictures of the victims.

"Both. See, apart from your former best friend, ex boyfriend and cousin, there'd be Jane Sanchez, who was the supervising officer on your mother's murder case."

June flinched, but only inwardly. The woman who'd failed to catch her mom's killer had now been murdered by probably that very monster.

"And Harry Kilmer was the officer who busted your brother for bar brawling and locked him up for two nights."

"Two peaceful nights those were," June mumbled.

"That's not all," Sam straightened up, and from a sitting position, June actually felt intimidated by his imposing figure, "There's been another murder tonight. Does the name Holly Simmons mean anything to you?"

June's control slipped. "What? Holly's dead?"

"So you know her?" Sam asked, oblivious to June's upset expression.

"Yeah… yeah, she's…" June grabbed the reigns back. She wouldn't break down in front of them, "Holly's my motherly best friend, if you know what I mean… God, her poor husband."

Dean and Sam looked at each other; this was the first victim who really meant something to June. The vampire was picking up pace, and he was continuously getting closer to what he was undoubtedly after: June.

"June, how much do you remember of the vampire who killed your mother?"

"Everything," She replied, unmoved. "You got pen and paper?"

Within two minutes, she'd drawn up a decent sketch of a man in his thirties who seemed oddly familiar to the Winchesters, though they didn't tell June that.

"June, this vamp, he might be after you."

"I don't suppose you know why?"

"No, but I do know it's not safe for you out there."

"So you're suggesting I sleep with a stake under my pillow?" She grinned.

"Wouldn't do much good, beheading is the only way to kill a vampire."

"Right. Well, butcher knife, then," June stood up.

"Whoa, where are you going?"

"Well, guys, I appreciate your worry, but I'm not going to walk around with a string of garlic around my neck and bathe in holy water, I've got a life to live, so…"

"Didn't you hear what we just said? That vamp's after _you_."

"Good, because if he finds me, I can at least ask him why he did that to my Mom before he rips me to shreds, too."

Sam leaped forward and grabbed June's arm. She turned and looked into his eyes, not knowing what to make of what she saw in them. Whatever it was, it thrilled her, it scared her, it turned her on.

"Vampires aren't to be messed with, June," His voice was low and almost threatening, "They're fast, strong and bloodthirsty, and if you don't let us save you, you'll be torn to shreds just like your mother was."

"Why would you care?"

"Frankly, I don't. All I'm interested in is capturing that vampire, and if he gets what he wants – you – then he'll disappear and we won't know when he'll show again."

Sam half-expected hurt to show in June's expression at his uncaring, but no such thing; she raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Alright. I'll be careful and all, but I want in. If it's the vamp that killed my Mom, I want to be there."

"Do you have any idea what you're asking for?" Sam's grip on her arm tightened. "What we do isn't for giggles, June. It's dangerous, and more often than not lethal, especially for civilians."

"I spent thirteen years of my life not knowing if what I saw that night was real or not. Now I know and it about turns my world upside down, so don't treat me like this doesn't affect me, because it does. That thing might be what murdered my mother; wouldn't you want revenge?"

"Revenge doesn't get you squad."

"For you, it might not. For me, it will finally put an end to it. To not knowing what really happened, to the uncertainty. So unless you want me sashaying down the streets calling for that vamp to finish his job, you let me in on this."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you end up six feet under."

What was it with this man and his cold-hearted lack of empathy or any feeling at all, really, that intrigued her? Why wasn't it hurting her, hell, why did she _enjoy_ it even?

'Because you can relate,' a nagging voice scratched inside her head. 'Because you don't have to flaunt that loving smile in front of him to make him believe you're fine – he neither cares nor believes you. Being honest is a nice change, and you like it.'

"I doubt that if I end up six feet under, I'll be in any condition to complain," June replied, and slowly, Sam let go of her.

Dean had followed their conversation with a sceptical frown. He figured it better to wait a little and see how it would turn out between two emotionally damaged blocks of ice; he just hoped there'd be no fire of passion melting them down and bring on the flood.

Last thing he needed right now was a devastated girl to comfort over Sam's soullessness.

"June," Dean stopped her when she already had her hand on the door handle.

Her blonde hair whipped over her shoulder as she turned her head back to them, "Yeah?"

"Be careful, alright?"

The girl nodded slowly, wondering why this practical stranger cared about her when even her own family didn't. The contrast between Dean's care and Sam's coldness left her mind and heart in one hell of a turmoil; believe in love or not? Which was easier, which more worth it?

June sighed, stuck the key into the ignition and pulled her beloved car out onto the street.

No, she had believed in love all her life, she wouldn't waver now. She believed in true love, she believed in God, she believed in family.

The reason for her conviction was her mother; in her memory, Fiona was almost a saint. A woman who loved her husband, her children, and who gave them a safe, loving home and who taught them to believe in a good-hearted higher power.

All her life, June had clung to those values, which she thought of as her mother's memory, and it had enabled her to stand upright, to keep fighting all these years. Years in which she had to witness her father distance himself from his children and her brother drowning the hurt over his mother's early loss in any liquor he could find. She had to take people never taking her seriously, not acknowledging her pain because secretly they believed money could fix anything.

But she had lived through all of that, because she believed in love as her mother taught her.

One day, June was convinced, she would find that one special person, a man who would give her all the love she craved and needed, and it would be alright. She would have her family and could give them what her mother would have given her, too, had she lived and not ripped brutally from life.

'Yes,' June thought, 'That man will come, soon. And he'll be worth everything; waiting, my virginity, giving up my career for our family; everything."

#

"Well, I don't know how artsy Miss Millionaire is, but if that picture is even half-way accurate…"

"It's the Alpha vamp that killed her mother," Sam finished.

"Yeah, but, man, that doesn't make any sense. Alpha vamp busts out from Samuel's torture trap, and first thing he does is kill his way through to June? I mean, what makes her that special?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I don't think she knows, either."

"Maybe she does but doesn't tell us?"

"Doesn't seem likely. If she was in any way special, I doubt it would be in a good way, so she wouldn't help _us_."

"Man, this case makes my head hurt," Dean pressed his fingers to his forehead.

Sam huffed, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked what just popped up on his screen. "I think I just found a lead and possible explanation."

#

"Miss Alexandria! Where have you been so long? It's late, and far too dangerous out there for you to be out so long!"

June smiled softly at Lucia, wondering how the kind maid would react when she told her she'd been with two rather shady characters that kill monsters for a living.

'Note the irony in that', June thought.

"Lucia, do you know where my father is?"

"Why, he left for Cairo this afternoon. Didn't he tell you?"

June tried to ignore the sting in her heart; you should think a father thought it necessary to inform his daughter when he left. "Oh, er, right… um, when did he say he'd be back?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Alright, thank you." As June slowly walked upstairs into her room, she wondered when she'd last talked to her Dad in person. Must have been days.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and dialled his number. "Dad?"

"Alexandria, sweetie." He sounded rushed.

"Everything okay, Dad?"

"Yes, yes, this just isn't a very good time, sweetie, I'm on my way to catch my flight. Let me call you back, alright?"

"Um, okay-" She was already talking to static. "Love you, too, Dad."

Needless to say, her father didn't call back.

June stood up and stripped out of her clothes, standing in front of the mirror just in bra and panties, wondering if she was even worthy of being loved. Did love depend on looks? She didn't know.

Her mother had been beautiful, and her father was handsome; they had loved each other, so were looks necessary for love? June was pretty sure that they weren't. It's a person's soul that mattered.

Which raised a question harder to answer than whether she was pretty: Did she have a soul worth loving?

June liked to believe that she had lived in a way that didn't suss her soul out as unlovable.

'One day,' June sighed and crawled into bed, 'A man will show up and he'll teach me what love is.'

#

The vampire watched June get out of her classic car, how she swung her bag over her shoulder and walked over the manicured lawn. The house swallowed her, hid her from the vampire's sight, but he didn't need to see her to know where she was.

A steady heart beat, sounds of heel on stairs, clothes falling to the ground in the left wing of the house, upper story, the soft rustling of bed sheets being pulled back and then pulled over that warm body.

'Beautiful, so beautiful,' It occurred to the vampire. 'And smart.'

The night when the vamp would strike would come; but it wasn't this night, he decided. Other heads had to roll first.

**###**

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	4. Team 'Millionaire Brat' Winning

"Two murders in one night. That vamp's spinning out of control, Sam." Dean groaned as he just ended yet another call with the sheriff. They'd found the body of Timothy Gibbons this morning, same m.o. as all the others.

"No kidding. You know, I've been thinking, if that vamp's after June, we should use her as bait."

Dean turned to his brother incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

"Why?"

"Sam, this might be the freaking ALPHA vampire! We're not going to dangle June in front of him, _hoping_ that he might not bite and that we'll be quicker. Look, I know we have to capture that thing alive to get your soul back, but I'm not going to put that girl's head on the chopping block! There has to be another way."

"Like what, exactly? Dean, she wanted in on this, I'm just doing her a favour."

"Oh, so throwing her at a bloodthirsty monster, that's your idea of doing a young girl a favour? I'm surprised you get laid at all, Sam."

"Hilarious," Sam growled. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched through various data bases to find the connection between Timothy Gibbons and June that undoubtedly existed.

He found nothing.

"Alright, I'm going to head over to June, see if she knows this guy," Sam got up.

"Remember what I said about chicks on a case, Sam."

"You're the one pimping me out to her."

"Just stating the obvious, Casanova."

"Yeah, whatever. See you later."

Dean wondered if he should follow Sam, for June's safety; but as it was daylight, it seemed unlikely his brother would hunt down the Alpha now.

If it was the Alpha.

'Damn, I wish we never took this case,' Dean rested his head in his hands and tried to remember the days when Sam and he just hunted Wendigos, homicidal clowns or scarecrows and zombies, the occasional demon. They seemed like good, peaceful times, retrospectively.

#

"Yes?" The maid opened.

'Regrettable,' Sam thought; he wouldn't have minded seeing a freshly out of bed June again.

"Hi, is June at home?" Sam asked un-ceremonially.

Lucia eyed the young man in front of her suspiciously; he was too old to be one of June's boyfriends, but not old enough not to be a threat of becoming one. Slowly, she remembered that he was the FBI agent; one of the many, anyways. Lucia was tempted to ask, but was scared of what answer she might receive.

"Haven't you asked the poor girl enough questions?"

"Not even close," Sam replied and stepped inside unasked. "So where is she?"

"I'm here, Sam, but what on earth are _you_ doing here?" June rubbed the tiredness from her eyes as she slowly descended the stairs. One hell of a night this one had been; she'd gotten maybe four hours of sleep and it had been filled with nightmares of that night her mother had been murdered.

Lucia looked at the two young people staring at each other across the hallway, and she didn't like the vibes they sent off.

'Last thing Alexandria needs is a man like this dragging her deep into trouble,' She thought grumblingly.

It would be the first time June would listen, though, so Lucia wouldn't even try reasoning with her. That girl did what she wanted, anyhow.

"We need to talk."

"What did we do all night if not talking?"

"You tell me." Sam raised his eyebrows, and June caught his tone just too well.

But no way in hell would she throw everything she believed in – true love, integrity, etc. – away for one night, no matter how intriguing and _extremely_ attractive Sam might be.

June huffed, descended the last remaining two steps and floated past him into the living room. "Fine."

There it lingered again, that faint scent of vanilla and blueberries.

"When do you sleep?" June stifled a yawn, reached for the can of coffee Lucia had brought them and poured them each a cup.

"I don't," Sam replied simply, not realizing in time June might take it literally.

She raised her intelligent blue eyes to look at him. "Am I supposed to believe that just like that, inquire after details on your sleeping habits, or ignore it as exaggeration?"

"Long story for another time."

"Alright," She crossed her legs elegantly and brought her cup to those sinful lips, "Speaking of long stories, though: You still owe me an insight on your life. I'm not expecting a full CV, just how you got into this stuff."

"What makes you think I'm willing to share even that much?"

"Justified question, to which I can provide two answers: One, quid pro quo. I told you how I know there are indeed things going bump at night. Two, I was taught blackmail wasn't the most legal thing to do, so let me just remind you, in a friendly fashion, that it takes me one call and the FBI will show up to save me from the dangerous fugitives Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Point for you," Sam didn't know what prevailed; amazement at June's skill to weasel her way out of every trap he set up, wonder at how she knew so much – they had never told her their last name, yet she knew it – or annoyance at her stubborn obstinacy.

"Make that two," She smiled superiorly, "One for winning the argument, and one for your last name."

"I'll catch up, princess, don't you worry."

"Oh, I'm counting on it. Be aware, however, that catching up is not quite the same as winning."

"Getting there."

"We'll see. Anyhow, I'm waiting."

"You don't give up easy, do you?"

"Never."

"Dean and I lost our mother to a demon. Our father raised us into this life, so here we are, saving damsels in distress."

"Oh, where are they?" June threw a theatrical look around.

"Well, there's one sitting right in front of me."

"Sweetheart, I think you went a little heavy on the whiskey last night, 'cause you're apparently seeing double." June leaned forward to set down her cup. "I don't need to be saved, Sam. All I want is that vampire's head cut off and move on."

"Well, I'm sure that since that is all and you make it sound so easy, you don't need our help."

June took a deep breath and evaluated Sam with a long glance. "Since you were the one coming to me, I take it you need my help, too."

"Okay, one point each."

"4-1, looks like Team Millionaire Brat is winning."

"Whoa, whoa, where did the fourth score come from?"

"Finding out you weren't FBI." June stated matter-of-factly and poured them another coffee. "So what'd you come to talk to about?"

"Does the name Timothy Gibbons mean anything to you?"

"Yes."

"And?" Sam urged impatiently after June didn't add anything to that 'yes'.

"And nothing, you asked whether the name meant anything to me and yes, it does."

Sam took a deep breath in order to calm himself. He tried remembering what lessons Dean had tried teaching him about having a soul, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember one. "You mind elaborating?"

"Like what?"

"Are you just acting dumb or are you maybe really?"

"You need to ask your questions right, Sam." June wasn't impressed by the aggressiveness in his tone.

"Don't act like you're doing me any favours, June; it's in _your_ best interest that we catch that vampire before it kills you. I personally couldn't care less, so unless you work with me, you'll be the next one to end up dead. But hey, at least, you were a smart-ass to the last breath."

June had to smile, she just couldn't help it. Talking with Sam, it was… fun. Entertaining, challenging, unknown and exciting.

"Okay, 4-2." June leaned back, took a warming sip of coffee before she quietly said: "Timothy Gibbons was the guy who tried to rape me one year ago."

Sam's eyebrows shot up; that sure was motive. "He didn't…, though, right?"

"No," June closed her slender fingers around the cup, "I do know how to kick ass if I have to. I suppose I was too much of a hassle for him, so he ran…very useful, of course, since I knew him. He's another millionaire's son."

"He was never convicted?" Soul or no soul, Sam still had even that tiny bit of sense for justice.

"What for?" June asked mockingly, "Not like he actually _did_ anything. Apart from giving me nightmares for weeks, but which jury convicts for such a petty thing?"

Sam didn't say anything as slowly, puzzle pieces fell together in his mind to form a completely different picture than what they had originally thought.

"Sam… what do you expect yourselves from hunting monsters? I mean, for me, there's an end in sight, you know, that vampire dies and it's over for me, but you…?"

"Another long story," Sam got up, "I've got to check a few things, I'll call you."

"Is that a 'I'll call when I feel like it or remember, whatever comes first' or is that an honest 'I'll call the second I find something out'?" June asked as she leaned against the doorframe and Sam turned around to look at her. Neutrally observed, she really was beautiful, though she didn't seem to quite realize that herself. Her sassy character made her intriguing, but probably repellent to 90% of the guys, who didn't like challenging girls. Surely her money compensated for that, though.

For the fraction of a second, Sam wondered who June had to turn to, and didn't come up with anybody. Since he wasn't blinded by the glitz and glamour the Hallberg family presented to the world, he could see how lonely that girl truly was. He didn't care, but he acknowledged that it couldn't be easy for her.

"I'm not making any promises, but it's more of a 'I'll call when I find something out' than a 'I'll call when I feel like it'." Sam flashed her a one-sided smirk and turned around.

June closed the door only when the black '67 Impala had disappeared around a corner.

Strange, how she could talk about her own possible death with this Sam Winchester and still feel so alive.

#

"What'cha find?" Dean barely looked up when Sam returned. "Apart from what kind of underwear she's wearing?"

"The vampire's not out to kill June." Sam shot back triumphantly, ignoring Dean's gibe.

"Insightful, what the hell do you mean?"

"The victim of this morning?"

"Yeah?"

"He tried to rape June past year, but was never convicted."

'Damn, that girl isn't spared anything…' Dean rubbed his eyes. "So you're saying?"

"The vampire doing this isn't out to harm June. It's eliminating anyone who's ever hurt her or her family. See, there's her ex best friend, who probably was the only person ever there for June, and she ditched her. Then there's her ex boyfriend, who was just after her money, and the cop who wasn't able to catch her mother's killer and couldn't give her closure. Then the other cop busted her brother, I'm sure that didn't put him up high on their friend list."

"Great, so June's got herself a stalker vampire…. Just awesome."

"What are the odds June knows him? Or her?"

"_Her_? A lesbian stalker vampire?" That would indeed top off the suicidal teddy bear.

"That's not what I mean," Sam pushed a file across the table.

Dean speculated whether to open it or not, and decided for it in the end.

The more he read, the higher his eyebrows rose. "I'd say this changes things."

"You think?"

#

June was getting ready for work – late night shift, ugh – when Lucia entered her room, her face not happy. "Miss Alexandria."

"Lucia, how often do I have to ask you to call me June?" She sighed complaisantly.

"Sorry, it is a force of habit. Anyways, that doesn't matter now. That man is here again to see you."

'So I suppose Lucia isn't Sam's number one fan,' June thought amusedly and tried to suppress a smile. "I'll be right down."

"Your mother would not approve of you spending your nights out with someone who's not good for you." Lucia murmured, but left before June could answer.

Guilt gnawed at her excitement to see Sam again, but it couldn't eat it up, so her step was swift as she flew down the stairs. "Need my help again?" She asked coyly.

"You overestimate your use to me, June," Sam replied.

"Yet you're here. So if it isn't usefulness that you came to see me for, what is it then?"

They exchanged a flirtatious smile and Sam wondered what he would think of June if he had his soul.

'Huh,' He thought, 'Been a long time since I wondered what a soul felt like.'

"Despite your haughty overestimating of your own value, I did come to do you a favour."

June should have asked what Sam understood as a favour, but she didn't. Instead she smiled and said: "Well, then I'm all ears."

'Wouldn't mind you being all hands,' He was about to say, but Sam caught himself in the last minute, vaguely recalling a 'tact' lesson Dean tried to teach him a while ago.

#

"Next time, I'll take the hot girl for a walk, and you dig up the grave," Dean called out into the night as he heaved another pile of dirt up over his shoulder.

Taking a little break to catch his breath again, he called Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby, got anything new?"

"On the soul business? No. Did you find the vampire yet who's doing this?"

"Well, it turned out not to be so easy," Dean rested his arm on the shovel. "It might be the Alpha vampire, but it might not."

"Nobel prize for you, Einstein."

"Let me finish, would you? The vamp's killing people who, in whatever way, harmed this young girl, June Hallberg. Who happened to have witnessed the Alpha murder her mother thirteen years ago."

"Might be coincidence."

"Come on, Bobby, when does that ever happen to us?"

"Alright, so what'cha boys doing now?"

"Well, I'm digging up a grave, while Sam's took it upon himself to take the reasonably attractive girl for a walk. Why the dices fell this way, I have no idea. Probably 'cause June's got a horrible taste in guys, she seems to be attracted to total dickheads."

Bobby rolled his eyes and hung up, not dignifying that with an answer.

Dean shrugged and got back to digging until he finally hit the sound of shovel on wood. "Hello, Fiona."

He wrestled the coffin open.

"Or not."

**###**

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	5. You Are My Business

"So this is where the vampire's lair is?" June looked at the deserted factory building that looked as if it had just jumped out of a movie.

"Maybe, yeah."

"Huh. I suppose he likes clichés."

Sam shot her a questioning look as they got out of Dean's Impala.

"I mean, run-down factory, seriously?"

"You'd be surprised at how often that actually happens."

"I suppose I would be, yes."

"Hey, June, let me ask you something."

"Permission granted."

Sam's left corner of the mouth shot up, "Why are you so completely cool with all this supernatural crap? I mean, you didn't once question Dean's and my sanity."

"Well, for one thing, you two seem pretty sane, considering the circumstances. I can just tell that much. And for another… how could I not believe what I have seen myself? I mean, I blocked out the details of that night out in order to keep my sanity, but I never forgot it, even when that hypnotist tranced me into oblivion."

"And the fact that you're about to walk into a vamp's nest, that's just everyday business for you?"

"No. I suppose it is _your_ everyday business. But," June simpered, "I guess that if the vampire wants to kill me, he'll do so either way, and I might as well come to him and send you forward to cut off his head before he succeeds."

"Nice to know where I stand in your opinion."

"If it's any consolation, you still come before my Dad."

"Considering your relationship with your father, that isn't a consolation, no."

June shrugged. "Well, if you kill the vamp, you'll be very far up on my list."

"Who says I care what you think?"

"Nobody, but who says I care if you care?"

Sam stopped to look at June; this girl would rob him his last nerve if he could be bothered to have any. Now, with his soul gone, she entertained him. Interesting how she didn't seem to mind his scathing words but shot back a witty rejoinder and was done with the topic.

Almost as if there was nothing inside of her that he could harm.

"So, how do we know if…" June never finished her sentence because that second, the ground gave way beneath them and they crashed onto cement floor.

Well, Sam landed on cement floor, June had a softer landing since she landed on top of him.

"Oh, wow, this isn't a salacious position at all," She remarked dryly as she looked into Sam's eyes, then taking in how her body laid on his, her breasts pressed flat against his chest and giving more insight into her cleavage than she had ever intended on sharing.

She could feel his steady heartbeat hammer against her own, flittering one, and how firm his muscular body was.

Then she felt how his hands rested on her hips, probably unintentionally. Inadvertent or not, though; June couldn't deny she liked the feel of his large hands on the soft curve of her hip. Her breath went shallow as she tried to keep the electrical bolts under control that surged through her body, originating from the hot flecks of skin where he touched her.

Next thing she realized his one hand was buried in her hair and her lips were on his.

June didn't get off of him, but rather tightened her straddle around his waist and pressed herself closer to his body as she cupped his face in both her hands and deepened their kiss.

Sam tasted the intriguing inexperience on her lips, but at the same time was amazed by the skill of her unspoilt, soft lips.

Her hair tickled his face as it fell like a curtain around her head, and he felt the heat radiating from her body, more specifically, her lush breasts that were pressed against him alluringly.

June's sense was just about to sign the minority contract, when she remembered where she was, with whom, and why.

Rather unwillingly, she broke away before things could get more heated. She looked into Sam's hazel eyes and breathed: "I don't think we'll be catching vampires like this anytime soon."

"So?"

Later, June would think about this moment: 'Why didn't I realize it then?' but now, she just cocked an eyebrow and rolled off of Sam, suddenly uncomfortable at their closeness. Probably because she was mad at herself for giving in so easily. "_So_, I want to find the son of a bitch who killed my Mom and chop his fucking head off."

"Resorting to coarse language," Sam noted as if keeping track of various stages of rage, "Something tells me you're trying to cover something up."

"Like what?" June flared and hoped to God he didn't see her blush in the dim light.

"You tell me."

"Well, Mr Psychoanalytic, how about you just mind your own business?"

"Seconds ago _you_ were my business."

"Note the past tense. So let's get moving," June turned on her heel and headed the opposite direction. Turning her back on Sam proved a mistake, however.

June flinched and let out a little yelp when suddenly his arm came around her waist from behind, pressed her against him and his mouth brushed the sensitive skin of her neck. "Do I make you uneasy?"

June was immobilized, no matter how badly she wanted to wriggle out of his hold on her. "No," She breathed. "Only when you invade my personal space, like you do now."

"You didn't mind it just seconds ago. And something tells me you don't mind it now, either."

"Now who's the one 'haughtily overestimating his own value'?" June found her confident ground again and slipped from his embrace.

She heard Sam chuckle in the semi-dark behind her.

"What?" She demanded as she tried not to be repulsed by the slimy walls, green from the water that's been continuously running down them for years.

"You're a virgin," Sam stated amusedly as he realized that behind all her coquettish slickness, behind that seductive exterior, there was a romantic, maybe even naïve girl who waited for her knight in shining armour.

June growled, and she had to fight hard to keep up that self-protective shield of 'nothing can affect me' attitude. "Guess what, there are people who have control of their urges. So, yes, I'm a virgin, and you ain't gonna be the one to change that."

"I didn't offer, princess."

"I didn't demand."

Sam smiled and watched June's swaying butt in front of him as he followed her through the dark hallways of the basement level. As much as he liked June's proud obstinacy, he found himself hoping she wouldn't pull through with it for once. He wasn't into virgins, but June was an exception he would consider making.

A barely audible rustling erased all thoughts of a naked June from his mind.

June flinched when she saw Sam pulling out a machete. He pushed her behind him and listened for another sound.

For endless seconds, there was nothing, then it all went too fast for June to react on it: Something jumped up beside Sam, who pushed said something against the wall and held the blade to its throat.

"Winchester," It choked gleefully.

"Where's your boss?"

"Not here," The vampire grinned.

June pressed her lips together in order not to cry out when the vamp's head fell to the floor, followed by its body sliding down the wall limply.

Sam looked at the body disdainfully, then at June to see how she took it.

'Remarkably well.'

And apparently, her mind still worked faultlessly. "What'd you mean with his boss?"

"Nothing," Sam continued his way down the long corridor.

"Yeah, right. So what did you mean?"

"Nothing you need to know."

June realized something then as she followed the hunter into the obscurity; she had underestimated the danger she'd stepped into.

And it was far too late to back out.

#

The Alpha wasn't here, that much was clear, but it was in town, otherwise his lackeys wouldn't be swarming around.

It never occurred to Sam that June and he had different ideas of what to do with him once captured; June wanted his head separated from his torso, he wanted to deliver him to Crowley, alive.

And he didn't care that if he trapped the Alpha, June would never get her closure, she would never get her revenge. Sam used her to lure the Alpha out, but she wasn't about to score anything out of that deal.

Hell, June didn't even know she was being used as bait.

Sam had brought her to this warehouse hoping she'd lure the Alpha out of his hiding, not because he wanted to do her the favour of joining in on the kill. What she didn't know needn't concern her.

After making absolutely sure there were no other bloodsuckers in the building, Sam and June returned to the Impala.

"You knew it wouldn't be here, didn't you?"

"What?" Sam was taken by surprise at her sharp deduction, but he didn't even flinch as he pulled the Impala back on the road.

"If you had honestly thought that the vampire we'd be looking for was in that building, you wouldn't have gone in alone, but with your brother to back you up." June didn't know exactly how this monster hunting business worked, but she was pretty sure it was too dangerous to be a one-man job.

Damn, he had to be more careful around June. Sam was far too used to naïve damsels in distress or women who just didn't care about what he did, because mostly they spent just one night with him, anyways. After years of this dire hunting business, he wasn't accustomed to sharp, witty civilian women anymore and hence hadn't been able to dodge June's deductions.

Sam tried to think of a disregarding answer, but found none. None that would have satisfied June, at least.

"5-2." June leaned back into the leather seats and watched the city fly by. "So much for you catching up."

Dean saved him from losing yet another point to June by calling him in that very second. "Yeah."

"She's gone."

"Like… gone?"

"Fiona Hallberg's body has never been in that coffin. They buried an empty pine box. Well, actually, I suppose with these people it'd be more like tropical wood on the verge of extinction…"

"Right, right, get to the point."

"I just told you, Sam: Fiona Hallberg disappeared from the morgue, she was never buried."

"So she was probably never dead in the first place. Or, well, undead, whatever."

"Yeah, so the Alpha didn't kill her, it turned her."

"Why?"

"No idea. Think your girlfriend knows something?"

"Dude, she is not-"

"Right. Anyways, I'd say we officially have a new angle to this."

"Alright, I'll be back at the motel in ten minutes." Sam hung up, and didn't see how June's face hardened.

"Sam, what's really going on here? And don't just say 'nothing' again, because I don't believe it."

"Fine, then I won't say it."

Silence.

"Sam."

"You told me not to tell you 'nothing'."

"Yeah, because I want the _truth_."

"You don't want to hear the truth, believe me."

"I don't. Believe you. What makes you the judge of what I can take and what not?"

"It isn't so much what you can take, but rather what I'm willing to share."

"Well, make up your mind; do you need me on this…_hunt_ or not? Don't let your judgement be clouded by your ever-so-honest promise of letting me in on the killing of the vamp who murdered my mother. I won't hold you to that promise if it's against what you truly want." Her voice was sugar-coated acid. "But if there is even the smallest reason that you need me on this one, you'll grant me the truth of what I'm stepping in."

"You're already in it deep, June. You're not able to back out whether I tell you or not. So to me, it makes no difference, only that I like keeping my privacy intact."

June felt the bitter taste of defeat on her tongue.

"5-3. So much for me catching up."

June glared at him, wondering how she had ever found his challenging entertaining.

When she lay in bed that night, however, she knew: Because despite everything, she liked Sam. A damn lot, if not too much for her to come out of this unscathed.

#

"So I was wondering… what if Fiona _let_ herself get turned?" Dean suggested as they sat brooding over this case in their motel room.

"What'd she do that for? That makes no sense."

"Yeah, well, those teenage girls on our last vampire case seemed pretty eager to grow fangs."

"I'm pretty sure those 'twilight' books weren't out back in 1998. Much less do I think that a grown woman with two kids was a fang groupie."

"So, what, the Alpha just let her get away? I mean, if he _wanted_ to turn her, he'd have done without the overkill of tearing her apart, he'd just turned her nice and clean."

"One way of finding out."

Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly. "That being?"

"Finding June's mother."

"You make it sound _so_ easy. Besides, I thought capturing the Alpha came first. Why are you so eager on finding Fiona all of the sudden?"

"Well, she _is_ the one killing these people, Dean. I mean, if she's checking off a list, we don't have a lot of time. She probably is out for her next victim already."

"Yeah, but what's her end game? And why act out now, after thirteen years? Why is she suddenly out to 'avenge' her children?"

"No idea."

"I don't like this."

"You think I do?"

"You're emotionless, Sam." Dean stated in a tone one would report the weather.

"That doesn't mean I'm a big fan of homicidal bloodsuckers running lose."

"Alright," Dean was tired of arguing, and most of all, he was tired. Sam might be fine without sleep, but after digging up a grave, talking to the coroner and searching the crime scenes for any clues, he was bummed out. "Well, I suppose we're not going to get any further tonight, so-"

Sam's cell vibrated, making the plastic table shake ever so slightly.

"June?" Sam asked almost disbelievingly; for one, it was late and she should be asleep, for another, they hadn't left on the best of terms so he couldn't think of any reason that would make her call him.

"No, Angelina Jolie calling to make your day," She snapped. That couldn't be good.

"Sorry, sweetie, you ain't my type."

"Didn't seem like that this night."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Get to the point, June."

"Oh, right, my point: The freaking vampire is at my house, how's that for a point?"

"_What?_!" Sam stood up. "Where? How do you know? Better question: How are you still alive?"

"Thanks so much for your sweet concern, now would you please get driving and kill that son of a bitch?"

"June, are you sure-"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I can just _feel_ it. He's here. Not in the house yet, but he's out there. Please, Sam, you have to believe me." Her snappiness had faded and made way to genuine worry, but not fear.

"Alright, we'll be there in a few minutes. Just… don't move, okay?"

Sam tucked his phone into his jeans pocket. "We gotta go."

"What is it?"

"The Alpha's at June's."

"And she's still breathing?"

"Apparently."

"You know this might be a trap."

"I don't think so."

"What makes you so sure?" Dean got behind the wheel.

"Because June sounded truly worried."

"_Worried_? She should be scared out of her gourds. Does that girl have any survival instinct whatsoever?"

"Doesn't seem like it."

"Quite a pair you two make."

Sam didn't say that June would never concede to him; she had her values and her pride, and he couldn't even blame her for it. But trying wouldn't hurt.

#

June hardly dared to breathe. He was out there, watching in the dark, she felt it. Tingling up her neck, clutching at her heart – he was there. After all these years, that face she'd never forget came back.

And she was trapped like a goldfish in a basin.

'Screw this,' She decided to defy Sam's order not to move and quietly opened the door and stepped out onto the deadly quiet corridor.

Vampires were killed by beheading, so she had to get something sharp, preferably a hunting knife, but June had the vague premonition she wouldn't find any of those around.

One advantage she had: The vampire didn't know she could sense him.

Before June could even get to the top of the stairs, the front door opened quietly. That cold feeling increased, turned into an icy blizzard as she was struck by the realization that the vamp was inside the house.

She'd never get into the kitchen in time to pull out a knife. Hell, at this point, she couldn't move at all without him noticing her. Hatred mingled with fear and defiance and immobilized her. Like Lot's wife, June stood at the top of the stairs and stared down into the dimness, taking in the outline of the monster that had murdered her mother.

"Alexandria. You've grown." He stepped further into the entrance hall. "Come. Your mother wants to see you."

**###**

**I'm on happy pills from all your feedback, and I've gotta say I like how sweet the world looks from this perspective, so thank you and please keep it coming. :) **


	6. Vamps, Cops and Bitches

"He's already inside." Sam jumped out of the Impala agilely and pulled out an injection needle filled with so much dead man's blood, it would kill a normal vampire – the Alpha, it would only anaesthetize long enough for Crowley to show up and take it to wherever he kept his toys.

Dean wasn't far behind as he sprinted across the manicured lawn up to the impressive mansion.

"Your mother wants to see you," He heard the vampire say. Sam was actually too close for him not to notice the hunter feet behind him, but the Alpha didn't show any signs of feeling threatened.

Sam saw this as his chance and plunged the needle into the Alpha's heart from behind. It only took seconds for the vamp to fall to the ground unconscious.

"That was almost too easy."

"Yeah, but let's not second-guess the one thing that went right lately," Dean looked down at the motionless Alpha. "We better get that thing to Crowley before he wakes up again."

"Sam Winchester, employee of the month," The unmistakeable Scottish accent sounded behind them. "Cookie for you."

"Alright, you got your Alpha, now get Sam's soul back!"

"Sorry, moose, but that ain't happening yet."

Crowley was gone, and so was the Alpha.

"Freaking demons, seriously."

"What'd you expect?"

Dean didn't reply.

"Alright, I'm going to go check up on June, be right back."

Neither of the brothers had noticed the shadow upstairs, floating noiselessly back into her room, where she waited until Sam entered.

"Did you get the vampire?" June asked calmly.

"Yeah, Dean's taking care of the dead body just now."

June smiled, and it was only due to the spare lightning that Sam didn't notice the obvious fakeness of it. "So it's over?"

"Yes. Dean and I'll stay in town for another day or two, tying up a few lose ends, then we'll be gone and you can go back to your life. The vampire that killed your mother's dead."

"Well, thank you, Sam." June got up and hugged him, and if Sam had possessed his soul, he'd have felt the cold emptiness of the gesture.

One thing he should have realized, soulless or not: Never underestimate June Hallberg. Most of all, don't try to con her.

#

Sam and Dean were packing their stuff when suddenly sirens howled and blue and lights danced tango on the walls of their motel room.

"What the-" Dean didn't get to finish his sentence. The door was kicked open and three cops came in, guns cocked.

"Sam and Dean Winchester, you are under arrest. Get down on your knees."

"Come on-"

"On your knees!"

Sam briefly considered fighting back, but there were more cops outside, and he didn't have a gun on him while they had one each. He'd most likely be dead before he hit the ground.

Roughly, two of the cops cuffed them while the third one held them at gunpoint.

"Sam, I told you she was verging on jailbait, damnit."

"Hilarious, Dean," Sam snapped.

A minute later, they found themselves in a spot they never wanted to be again: The backseat of a squad car.

"What are you busting us for this time?" Dean asked cockily.

The officer didn't reply.

"This is so not a good time to end up in jail." Dean fell back into the seats.

"Is there ever a good time?"

"No, but of all the bad times to get arrested, this is definitely one of the worst."

Sam shook his head. "You're not making sense."

"Hey, officer, how'd you even know where to find us?"

"You're not as untraceable as you'd like to believe. Now shut up."

"What, just making a little friendly conversation here." Dean shot back.

Twenty minutes later, Sam and Dean were sitting in a shabby holding cell of Orlando police department, staring at blank concrete walls and wondering where they'd screwed up.

"How're we gonna Houdini our way out of this one?"

"Get Cass down here to zip us out, maybe?"

"Good call." Dean looked heavenwards. "Hey, Cass? You mind shining down for a second? Civil war can wait, we really need you to bust us out."

One minute passed, then two.

"Cass?"

Nothing.

"Alright, I'm guessing that option's out."

"Great, what now? Call Crowley to get us out?"

"I'd rather get 25 years for credit card fraud, grave desecration and whatever else those cops dig up than asking Crowley for help. Besides, I doubt he'd show." Dean threw himself onto the bed with its thin mattress, which was disgusting even by his low standards. "Come on, Sam, somewhere in that soulless mind of yours you have got to know how to weasel out of here."

"Excuse me, Dean, but just because I'm lacking a soul doesn't mean I have super strength to wrench open those bars."

Their bickering was interrupted by an officer stepping towards them. "Sam Winchester. A note just came in that was to be delivered to you."

Frowning, Sam took the piece of paper from the policeman and unfolded it.

"That bitch. That damn bitch."

"What?" Dean got up and ripped the note from Sam's hand.

_6-3. _

_Way to go. _

"What the hell does that mean?"

"That means I'm going to rip that bitch to shreds the second we make it out of here."

"You saying _June_ got us locked up in here?"

Sam punched the wall and Dean chuckled.

"You think this is funny?"

"You, Mr Infallible, getting tricked by a young rich chick? Yeah, I'd say that's pretty funny."

#

June might not have gotten her revenge on the vampire who killed her mother, but she sure gotten her revenge on Sam for lying to her face.

She felt sorry for dragging Dean into this, since he really seemed like a good guy, but war had its casualties.

The problem was that she was left with tons of questions and the only ones able to answer them were the Winchesters, but she had the sneaky feeling they weren't in a talking mood, knowing she was the one who got them behind bars.

What had the vampire meant by 'Your mother wants to see you'? Probably that June was supposed to meet her in death or something of that sort.

June stared at her toast, then into her tea, but found answer in neither.

"Uncooperative bitches," June growled at her breakfast, tossed it out and ascended the stairs. With all the calm in the world, she got dressed. Pulled out her dark blue jeans, put them on. Then a white top with a generous cleavage. Completed it with black, heeled boots and a leather jacket to match.

"Lucia, is my brother home?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Did he come home yesterday night?"

Lucia looked at the young girl sadly. "I didn't hear him come back, Miss."

"Typical," June shook her head and darted out the door, keys for her beloved Impala in her hand.

#

"Are you at least formally going to charge us with anything?" Sam asked, exasperated with being stuck in this tiny, confining space for almost a day now.

Even without his soul, being locked up with Dean proved a torturous experience.

First, his older brother was humming Metallica to pass the time, then he went over to singing ACDC.

Then he got hungry. When he got hungry, he became a pest.

Sam was almost grateful that his soullessness spared him of the worst of it; _feeling_ the unnerving qualities of his brother.

Nonetheless, he was scratching the walls.

'If I get out of here, I'm going to kill her.' Sam thought not too nicely. Though, mostly, he was annoyed at himself for not seeing through June. He should have known the bitch was going to turn them in the second they became useless for her case.

Why hadn't he seen that before?

"Stop beating yourself up about it, Sam… she's just better than you, no shame admitting that. Well, actually, that is a shame, so maybe you have a point beating yourself up about it." Dean grinned gleefully.

Sam wondered if he'd get away with fratricide.

Before he could decide whether it'd be easier to choke his brother or break his neck, the officer that had delivered June's note to him came in and unlocked their cell door. "You're released."

"Um…"

"Someone bailed you out."

Dean and Sam looked at each other; they didn't know what they were accused of in this jurisdiction, but no way would the police let them out on bail with the FBI wanting their heads.

Naturally, though, they didn't ask.

Sun was setting outside when the front door of the Orlando PD closed behind them, and they didn't have to wonder long as to who bailed them out. June was leaning against her Impala's hood, arms crossed before her chest and an unimpressed expression on her face.

The only thing holding Sam back from throttling her right there and then was the knowledge he'd end up in jail for good if he killed her now.

"What the hell was that?"

June straightened up and met his fiery gaze with an icy but burning stare from her blue eyes. She was utterly unimpressed and un-intimidated by Sam's rage. "_That_ was what happens when you try lying to me. Now, I accepted that you didn't want to tell me about your past, that's fine. But yesterday, you cheated me out of my revenge. You tried making me believe it was all over, that my mother's murderer was dead when really, you just knocked him out and delivered him to a demon or whatever that guy was."

Dean almost expected sparks to fly from her eyes and fire to shoot out of her mouth.

"That monster killed my mother, Sam, and you honestly expect me to sit quietly and say thank you when you protect it? If you didn't want to kill it, then you should have just let me deal with it on my own. Most of all: don't treat me like I'm stupid. Now, you either tell me everything I want to know, or you end up in that nice cosy cell again right away."

"You trumped us once, good for you, it won't happen again, believe me."

"We already sussed out I don't believe you, Sam. You're out on my money, so basically, I _own_ you. One call and the kind officers of the law will know the full extent of your crimes. Even my father's money can't bail you out then." A smile tugged at June's corners of her mouth. "You're my bitch now."

Sam wished looks could kill, because then he'd finally be rid of June and her nerve-wrecking attitude.

"What, no witty rejoinder to that?" She challenged. "Great, then let's have a talk." June opened the door to her car. "Don't even try shaking me off."

Sam looked over the Impala, wondering which weapon in her trunk to use on June.

"I'm sorry, but I'm starting to like her," Dean grinned at Sam. "She's got style. Not to mention she outwits you."

"Bite me," Sam growled and unwillingly climbed onto the passenger's seat.

They were halfway to their motel when Sam's phone vibrated, indicating he's received a message.

Sam opened the text and felt the burning desire to kill again.

_- __Guess that leaves us at 7-3. _

- Great, that earns you what, exactly?

_- __You tell me. What do I get when I reach 10 points? _

- I might not kill you.

_- I'd love to see you trying, Sam._

- Oh, sweetheart, at this point the only thing I'm still hesitant about is whether to grant you a quick death or torturing for every hour I had to sit in that cell.

- _A little sensitive, are we?_

- Not at all, but you'll find out soon enough.

_- Don't make yet another promise you can't keep. _

- Touché. What do I get if I win?

_- You mean, in the unlikely case of you ever catching up? I dunno. What do you want? _

Sam thought about that for a moment, wondering what would cost a girl who could afford anything. An evil grin spread over his face when he texted back: _You_.

June gulped when she read that and hoped she could score those three missing points quickly as she had no doubt Sam would claim his prize if he should win.

_Scared__ I might win, my sweet virgin_? Came another SMS when she didn't reply.

June bit her lip, torn between not wanting to risk her virginity to a man she didn't love (but, truth be told, found attractive and interesting) and not wanting to show weakness in front of Sam.

Her pride be damned, June replied: _Wouldn't have thought you were that desperate to get laid_ _that you have to resort to threats and deals. _

Another point for Sam, sadly, when he answered: _Wouldn't have thought you were so desperate to finally get laid that you're putting your belief in 'true love' behind your undeniable lust_. _Apparently you're not as upright as you'd like to make everyone believe. _

June tightened her grip on the steering wheel and was glad Sam couldn't see her blush. Damn him. Damn him to hell.

_7-4, princess. _

**###**

**Thanks for all your review love! :) Enhances my creativity. ;) **

**xoxo**


	7. Your Love Was Just A Lie

"You still with us, June?"

"Physically, yes, mentally, I'm currently taking a little walk." She held up a hand. "Hold on." June took a deep breath. "Alright, I'm good."

"You sure? Because I'm not seeing you running off yet, calling for the dudes in white jackets."

"That's because I'm currently reassessing the state of my mental health and actually consider believing you. Which, technically, I suppose would make me end up in a padded cell as well."

How the hell had she ended up here, in a dingy motel room, talking to the Winchester brothers about the devil, angels and whatnot other supernatural crap? When had she taken that wrong turn in her life that got her stuck here?

Vampires were one thing, demons another, but freaking angels and Lucifer? Worse still, trapped souls?

"You wouldn't happen to have any more of that whiskey around, would you?"

Sam huffed as Dean poured her a generous amount. He was glad to see June taking this so well, as he would have regretted seeing her leave. She was entertaining, different and thrilling, and despite her nerve-straining wittiness, comfortably uncomplicated to be around.

One odd thing that only Dean noticed was that June didn't express any explicit sympathy or any feeling, really. Sure, there was a little shock at the brutal truth, but no 'Oh my God, poor Sam lacks his soul, we have to get it back' or any of that sort. No particular upset shock at the mention of Sam's inconveniently springing the devil lose, either.

Dean somehow doubted that June would particularly care if she knew about the demon blood, too, which they had spared her so far.

"One question I do have."

"Just one?" Sam asked sceptically and sat down on the chair opposite her.

"Your life isn't that interesting as that I would wish to know every detail of it," June snapped sweetly.

Sam chuckled quietly and Dean wondered just how the hell those two would get along if Sam had his soul.

Unlike Ruby, June had style and, most importantly, she wasn't a demon – but a very callous human, admittedly. Yet, she held a certain human warmth, too.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted this Alpha alive?"

Sam frowned and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "That you don't have a soul isn't really something you share on the first date."

"For one, you just _wish_ it was a date, and two, if you'd just told me you wanted that monster locked up so that the 'King of Hell' can torture info out of him, I'd have gladly helped you achieve that. I wouldn't have asked for a reason, and you could have saved the lack of a soul bit for the second date."

"You sure are a piece of work."

"Nobody asked _you_ to work my case, so don't complain."

"Alright, alright, save the cuddly talk for when I'm not in the room." Dean stood up and looked at June. "Why would you have helped us catching the Alpha alive? I thought you wanted him dead."

"Well, ultimately, I do, but after suffering for thirteen years from what he did, I wouldn't mind him being a little demon-grilled first." June smiled calmly and reduced the content of her glass by a half in one gulp.

'Something is definitely wrong with this girl, and it ain't a lacking soul,' Dean thought, though he did sympathize with her thirst for revenge. It would have probably worried him more if she didn't express the wish to hurt the monster that had hurt her and her mother.

The thing was, though… maybe the Alpha didn't hurt her mom in a way June believed.

"So what now?"

Sam actually considered telling her everything was over; but he lacked the emotional inhibition it took to keep the gruesome truth from her. "The killings aren't over yet. It wasn't the Alpha who murdered those people."

June frowned. "Then why was the Alpha here? Why was he at my house?"

"We think that-"

"We don't know," Dean interrupted firmly and shot a glare in Sam's direction. Revealing to June that her mother most probably was a bloodsucker definitely wasn't a good idea.

Sam glared back at him, but he didn't elaborate.

June was too tired to notice the disagreement between the brothers, she was even too tired to notice Sam had been about to tell her about their suspicion.

"Look, June, whoever that vampire is, he's not out to hurt you. For tonight, you'll be safe. You should catch a few hours of sleep, we can pick this up tomorrow."

June looked at Dean and wondered again how he could care so much about people he barely knew. Apparently, what her family lacked, he had twice as much.

"Okay," She replied meekly. "Night, you two, and, well… thanks."

June would have liked to just sleep in her car, here in the motel parking lot; that way she wouldn't have to drive home for half an hour first, but she wasn't exactly keen on Sam finding her in the morning.

So, with a sigh, she let the engine roar to life and pulled out onto the street. She was half-way home when her phone rang.

"Brent, what is it?"

"Sis, where are you?" He sounded relatively sober, though alcohol did slur his words.

"On my way home."

"You were out with those two guys again, weren't you?"

"Why would you care?"

"You screwing them both?"

'Stay calm, June, he doesn't mean it, he's drunk…' June bit her lips, just kept herself from crashing her car and sighed: "No, Brent, I'm helping them with the murder cases."

"Yeah, right. I don't want my sister hanging out with them."

"Really, why's that?" June asked more to keep him talking rather than out of real interest.

"Because they're bad news, that's why."

"You know that _how_?"

"I just do."

"Brent, you're drunk again. Look, catch a cab home, alright? I'm exhausted, tired and had one hell of a day."

"No, no!" He sounded frantic. "You need to pick me up, sis, you need to!"

June sighed and would have liked to hang up, but she couldn't. Brent wasn't a model brother, true, but he was still her family, and she hadn't spent the last thirteen years holing him, her father and herself together for her mother's sake to give up on him now. "Okay, alright. Where are you?"

"Kenmore Lane, around Kenmore Circle." Brent hung up.

"Great, you mind telling me fucking number, idiot?" June snapped at the disconnected line. Her tired mind didn't process the fact that Kenmore Lane was nowhere near a bar and pub district.

'I really wish I had more of your strength, Mom.' June thought sadly and pulled up into Kenmore Lane twenty minutes later. 'I can't give Brent and Dad as much as you could.'

The house where Kenmore Lane met Kenmore Circle seemed abandoned, but June wasn't put off by that; it wouldn't be the first time Brent got drunk and wandered through the city until he ended up somewhere and had no idea how he'd gotten there.

"Brent?" She called out, exhausted and unnerved. "Get your ass out here, I'm tired and I want to get home."

No reply.

"Typical," June grumbled, marched across the grass and wrenched the door open. It was dark inside, and it took her eyes a few minutes to adjust and see outlines, then figures. The house seemed fully furnished, and June hoped to God Brent hadn't broken into an inhabited house.

"Brent!"

Of all places he'd ended up after yet another night of booze and strip clubs, this would definitely be amongst the top three of the weirdest.

Exasperated, June fumbled for a light switch, which naturally, didn't work.

"A…lex."

It took June a moment to process it was her being addressed; after having been called June by the Winchesters for days now, she had almost forgotten her other name. She only used Alexandria in the prestigious circles of society; it was why she had never grown a liking to that name. It sounded too rich, too old-school, to snobbish; June sounded lively, optimistic, lovely. She owed that name to Brent, her father had told her; He was five years old at that time when Fiona was pregnant with her, and when they told him that his sister would be born in June, he demanded she'd be called after the month she'd enter this world.

Maybe that was why she liked this name better; it sounded of the lightness of childhood that she'd been robbed of.

June looked around herself, trying to make out the source of the gurgling sound.

"Lex…"

She knew that voice; with terrible clarity, June realized that she'd stepped right into a trap. By who and for what purpose, she didn't know, but she did know her brother was dying.

"Brent!" She rushed to the dark, limp shape by the window. Even in the dim light, she could see the deep wounds on his throat; lethal wounds.

"…after you… don't… give in. Liars. Monsters."

"Brent, sweetie, it's okay, it'll be fine." June heard herself talking but didn't know what she was saying. Her hands were covered in blood, warm and thick on her skin, but she didn't notice. All that was spinning in her mind at the moment was the horrible reality that her brother, _her brother_, was dying and she couldn't stop it, she couldn't save him.

"Be…strong, June," It was the first time he called her by the name he'd given her, "I'm…I'm sorry."

"No, Brent, you don't have to be, it's okay."

"No… terrible brother… should've…"

"You did what you could, Brent, it's okay, it's okay," She soothed him with a calmness she didn't have; it was a fake she kept up for his sake. "Look, I'll call 911, you'll be fine, it'll be okay."

"June… be careful… Love you…"

June felt her tears run freely over her cheeks; never before had she cried. "Brent?"

No reaction.

Frantically, she ran her hands over his cheek, shook him lightly, tried CPR, all through a haze of unreality.

But it was real. Horribly, irreversibly real.

"Brent, don't you give up on me! Brent!" Her voice was high-pitched, hysterical and thick with tears.

"June, it's too late, he's dead." A strong arm pulled her up. "June, come on, we have to get you out of here…"

June struggled against the hold on her, but was pulled away from her dead brother anyhow; the other guy was just too strong. He whirled her around and made her look at him. "June, snap out of it!"

Numbly at first, then smouldering, she looked at Sam. "My brother's dead, and you-"

"If you want to survive, you have to trust me."

June shook her head and tried to break free again.

"Let go of my daughter, Winchester."

"Not happening," Sam tightened his grip on June, who thought her blood circulation must be blocked. She would have snapped at Sam to let her go, when first, she took in Dean's troubled look, then realized that she knew the voice that had spoken. Buried in her memories.

June shook her head, more to herself than anyone, and a part of her knew what was happening around her; Her life was crumbling together like a house of extremely thin cards.

All she really wanted to do in this moment was bury her face in Sam's chest and beg him to take her out of there.

Sadly, that wasn't how it worked.

June slowly turned her head, as if the inevitable would go away if she just gave it enough time. But her mother remained; she stood there in all her beauty, not aged one day since that horrible night thirteen years ago, and most certainly, not ripped to shreds.

As if someone had cut her pipes, June's tears stopped flowing. "Mom?"

"Sweetheart," The woman smiled and extended her arms, as if she truly expected her daughter to just come running to her. June didn't budge; she stayed right by Sam's side.

Fiona sighed, as if she had expected that. She switched on a faint light and said: "I forgot humans don't have the kind of vision we do. Look, Alexandria, it really is me."

"Like hell it is," June snapped bitterly. "I saw you get killed, you can't be alive!"

"You're right, sweetie, I'm not alive in the usual sense… but it's still me, Alex."

"Did you kill all those people?" June asked, unimpressed by Fiona's gentle coaxing.

The vampire sighed. "Sweetie, they didn't _deserve_ living. They hurt you! They hurt my baby. They hurt our family, Alex!"

"How, huh? How did they hurt our family?"

"That Holly woman was taking my place, she wanted to be your mother! No one is allowed to be your mother but me. And that cop who busted Brent? What gave him the right to lock up my son?"

"You're insane."

"That's no way to talk to your mother, Alex," She reprimanded softly. "Now step away from those hunters and come with me."

"No," June's voice was strong and unwavering, as if she wasn't covered in her brother's blood and facing her allegedly dead mother.

"Alex."

"Why are you coming after me, Mom? Why, after all these years? Why did you let me believe for thirteen years that you were murdered?"

"I'm sorry you had to witness me getting turned…"

"You mean you let it happen? Did you _want_ to become a fang?"

Fiona's eyes turned to Sam. "I see you infected her with that 'vampires being monsters' talk."

"You are a monster," Sam replied.

Fiona's mouth twitched dangerously, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she turned her attention back to her daughter. "Sweetie, you got us vampires all wrong."

"I don't think so," June spat. "Just tell me why."

Fiona sighed as if she tried explaining a three year old why she had to go to bed and couldn't stay up longer. "I wanted to be with Magnus forever, and I could. And think about it; we'll never grow old, we'll never die…"

"Oh, you'll die alright," Sam threw in.

Dean had been thinking the same thing, but hadn't wanted to voice it quite so clearly in front of the vamp's daughter.

"Alex, sweetie, don't you see? I needed to die to start a new life."

"So basically, you decided to abandon your family, make your daughter watch her mother get murdered and therewith give her nightmares for the rest of her life to become a monster. Real step-up, _Mother_." June couldn't believe it, didn't believe it, didn't want to. The halo she'd painted around her mother's head all her life now turned into devil's horns, and she wasn't sure she could handle it. Everything's she based her life upon just…vanished. Was crushed to bits.

Her mother never loved her father. She never cared about her children. Most surely, she didn't believe in god, not in love and not in integrity, either. Everything had been a lie.

"I never wanted you to witness it."

"Yeah, but you sure didn't care that I did, otherwise you would have come back sooner. Hell, you wouldn't have made me stand at your grave."

"I needed to."

"Why, huh, just tell me that!"

"I already did. Magnus and I love each other."

"Alright, that's the next thing: Who the fuck's Magnus?"

Fiona sighed. "You titled him the Alpha."

June shook her head disbelievingly. "No, no way…"

Dean wished he could spare June all this, but it was far too late for that. They should have found Fiona earlier, beheaded her and left June to her life. Now it was too late.

"All that talk about love, family and belief…" June started.

"It was my job as a mother to tell my children there were good powers, family loyalty and all… but I never believed it." Fiona shrugged off the values that had glued June's broken life together as if they were nothing. "Now, June, come with me."

"No."

"Sweetie, don't be stubborn. I'm sorry I put you through all that, but now is not the time to sulk, we can sort it out later. Now I need you to track Magnus, and then we can all be a family, just like you always wanted."

June was glad that her heart had already been half-dead, otherwise its breaking would have killed her now. "What about Brent? Didn't he have a place in your fucked up definition of family? Did you really kill your own son?"

"Brent was always weaker than you, he wouldn't have survived long in this world anyhow. He got you here, then I had no more use for him. He was weak."

"My God, you're one big ass bitch of a monster," Dean huffed disbelievingly.

"Watch your tone, boy."

"Oh, not around you, bitch."

"What do you mean she has to track him for you?" Sam demanded, not sensing anything good to come.

"Why, my little girl is special," Fiona smiled. "Aren't you, sweetie? You can sense Alpha creatures. You sensed Magnus that night when those two delivered him to the King of Hell. Now you need to get him back for me, and then we can be a family."

"If you think I'll do just as much as lift a finger for you," June stepped closer to her mother. The girl towered over her by a couple of inches at least. "You're even more insane than I thought. You destroyed my life by your selfishness, and you killed eight people for nothing. So I have only one thing to say to you: Go to hell."

Mania glinted in Fiona's eyes, and honest surprise at June's refusal, showing just how deranged she was.

June turned her back on what was biologically her mother, but not emotionally, and stepped closer to Sam and Dean. "Do what you have to."

Then she walked past them, out the door and to her car. She didn't feel anything. After all, how could a shattered heart feel anything?

June just knew that her life had been a lie.


	8. Surrender Is The Sweetest Sin

**Merry Christmas, everyone! :) Enjoy your holidays.**

**###**

"June?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask that."

"I didn't tell you." June said quietly; more than anything, she was trying to convince herself she was alright.

"You want me to take you home?"

"What did I do wrong to give off that impression?" June arched an eyebrow and opened the door of her Impala.

Sam was surprised at her typical, bickering reaction. He was pretty sure that people with souls were supposed to be at least a little traumatized after having their brother murdered by their own mother, who happened to be a vampire.

Not June.

"Fair enough," Sam smiled. "Just don't crash the car."

"Aww, how sweet, are you concerned about me?"

"Not at all, but you do have a gift that could come in handy in search for the Alphas."

"What makes you think I want to help out? It's over for me now, right? Case closed."

"What makes you think, June, that just because the case is closed for you, it is for everybody else?"

June stopped in her action of getting into the car.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You didn't really think that the monsters leave you alone when you happen to be able to sense them, did you?"

"I can handle myself, thanks. I did fine without you for all my life, you know."

"Well, all your life, you believed in what your mother taught you. If that changed tonight, I wonder what else did."

"Whatever did, you won't ever find out," June pressed out and slammed the door close behind her. Ferociously, she turned the key in the ignition and raced down the dirt road.

#

"Sam, you mind helping me with the bodies back here?"

The younger brother turned his head and looked at Dean. "Yeah, sure."

"Think she'll be okay?" Dean poured accelerant and salt over Brent and Fiona Hallberg's bodies.

"No idea." Sam answered honestly. "Do you?"

Dean sighed. "No way."

Half an hour later, Dean dropped Sam off at the motel and drove downtown to meet another hunter who'd called them and offered some information on possibly another Alpha. Sam insisted on joining, but Dean had been persistent; he didn't think it a good idea letting a soulless Sam lose on the hunting community.

So Sam was stuck in the motel room, with a six-pack and TV. Awesome. He growled and pulled out his laptop, hoping he could find leads for a new case somewhere.

#

June parked her Impala in front of the mansion. Never had the house looked so cold and empty; its windows were dead eyes in a skeleton.

June brushed a hand across her cheek to wipe away the dry tears, but the only effect it had was that she replaced them with her brother's blood.

"Oh, Brent, I'm so sorry," She whispered.

The creaky door sounded horribly loud in the silence of the night, and when June slammed it shut, it seemed to be louder than an explosion could have been.

Automatically, June unlocked the door and walked up the stairs, not even taking in the lifelessness of the house, not hearing her steps echo in the large rooms.

She hadn't only lost her brother tonight; she had lost her direction. Maybe she'd even lost a piece of her life that hadn't been whole to begin with.

June tore the bloodied clothes off her body, threw them into a pile in the far corner of her room and made a mental note to burn them tomorrow, before she'd file a missing person's report for her brother that would, of course, never be solved.

Red-tainted water swirled down the drain of the shower. June looked at her scorched skin and only then realized how hot the water was that rained down on her.

Shrugging, she stepped out of the shower and looked at herself in the mirror. Something had broken _in_ her; but it hadn't broken her. Maybe she'd known all along that the life she was living was more a fantasy than anything else; palaces built out of air but not substance behind them.

So she might as well screw it all to hell.

#

Sam frowned when he heard a knock at the door; Dean had a key, why would he knock?

Making sure to have a gun within reach, Sam opened.

"You win." June just said.

Sam raised his eyebrows wonderingly and let her in. "Win what?"

"Everything," She replied flatly. June turned around to him; her voice was low, defeated, but also demanding: "So take me."

Sam smiled inwardly, tasting sweet victory, but didn't show it yet. After everything June's put him through, he wouldn't be a modest winner. "Let me just go over this again: You're giving up."

June's eyes burned at him. She hated herself for this, but damn, she hated him, too, for revelling in her misery, for making her do this, for... "Yes." She pressed out between clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't quite believe you yet. What changed your mind?"

"Damn it, Sam."

He crossed his arms before his chest and just looked at her innocently. Well, as innocent as a pouncing lion could look. "I'm waiting."

June breathed heavily from suppressed rage; he knew fully well why, he just wouldn't let her off this easy, knowing she couldn't walk away anymore. "I was a romantic fool who tried saving a family that couldn't be saved and never was a family to begin with. You were right when you said I need you more than you need me, because I'm totally screwed without your help in this fucked up world of monsters. You were right when you said I pretend to be more upright than I really am. And you were probably right when you said I couldn't skip out now. You happy?"

"Oh, I will be," Sam came to stand before her, brushed back her flowing golden hair from her shoulders and finally allowed himself that victorious grin. "Just one more thing… I'd like to point out that this is _you_ wanting this, not me claiming my rightful prize. You're giving up on your values and principles."

"Do you enjoy torturing me, Sam?"

"Greatly."

June shook her head. "Unbelievable."

"You can still walk away." He kissed her temple lightly, his hands slid over her waist to her hips.

He heard her sharply intake breath and his smile got wider, even more predatory.

June forced her muscles to move, to get the hell away, but then she remembered that she had already screwed her pride to hell, she might as well kick dignity there, too. It all didn't matter, in the end. Life was a lie.

"So, June… why are you here?"

She swallowed the bitter taste of defeat and helplessness and growled: "Because I want you."

"Now was that so hard?"

"You sure have issues if you need your ego boosted by a girl who's in emotional distress and not thinking straight."

"Really?" He cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "You look pretty lucid to me."

"That would still leave the fact that you more than happily will bang a virgin ten years your junior." June wanted at least this little victory; for Sam to admit that he wanted her, too, and was willing to overstep moral boundaries for that. "And don't tell me you're just doing me a favour, because you were the one who wanted me as the prize for our bet."

"You're still kicking when you're already on the ground, aren't you?"

"Don't tell me you don't like it."

"We'll see just how much I like it." Sam pushed her hard against the wall, crushing his mouth on hers and his tongue attacked hers as he buried his one hand in her hair while his other blocked her only escape way by pressing her back against his body.

June's cry of surprise got lost in the ferocious kiss, and somewhere deep down she felt fear; there'd be no way out for her anymore. Her libido jumped into action, however, and erased all sensibility from her mind.

She caught herself opening the buttons of Sam's shirt, sliding it off his broad shoulders, revelling in the perfection of his body.

"Kind of sluttish underwear for a virgin." Sam commented when he rather tore than took off June's shirt, revealing her black lace bra.

"Huh. Kind of hot for a jerk with ego problems." She replied smoothly as she ran her lips over his chest, leaving a trail of kisses.

"You never stop, do you?"

"You started it."

Sam shut her up by claiming her mouth again, nibbling at those sinful voluptuous lips.

June tensed when she felt her bra slid off her body, leaving her breasts bare and her feeling uncomfortably exposed, vulnerable.

That unease was soon dissolving into nothingness when she felt Sam's hands cup her breasts, his thumb brushing over the most sensitive spot and making her involuntarily cry out from the pleasure it sent through her body.

Heat exploded in her middle, and she had the uncomfortable feeling Sam knew it, too. His hands removed her jeans and then travelled back to the spot nobody had ever touched her before. June hated herself for the passion she felt, hated herself for wanting Sam to pound into that pulsing spot.

"Someone's more than ready to get laid."

June shot him a smouldering glare; she had no witty reply to that, as her wetness was undeniable proof of the truth of Sam's words.

"All out of witty rejoinders?"

"Sam, do you want to talk, or do you finally want to fuck me?"

He grinned and lifted her legs up, which she immediately wrapped around his waist. She brought her hands between their bodies and slid them over his chest, down to his loins and unbuckled his belt. Sam growled into her lips and pushed her hard against the wall again, his body heavily pressing against hers.

He bit down on her neck, then trailed down to her breasts, extracting moans from her lips.

Having enough of gentle foreplay, Sam threw her onto the bed. He quickly discarded of his jeans before he stripped June of her last remaining piece of clothing, leaving her fully naked in front of him. Finally.

June felt his predator eyes on her, and wasted a quick thought on how wrong this was, that she should have never come here to throw away the last remaining bit of upstanding integrity she still had left of her former life. Then Sam's hand travelled up her leg, stopping at her knee and lifting it up, and she felt desire pulse heavily inside of her.

Sam enjoyed June writhing in inner conflict in front of him, because he knew he would win; he had her completely at his whim.

This unspoilt piece of flesh underneath him was his to take, his to mark, to brand, and he would use that power to the full extent.

Sam kissed the soft inside of her thigh, and June tried her best to hold back that moan, but it escaped her lips either way. It didn't even stop when he bit that very spot he'd just been kissing, and all June wanted was for him to take her, mark her, brand her. She wanted to be tainted by this dark passion she felt for Sam, not caring it might devour her.

June struggled up so that she kneeled on the bed, and she snuck her hand down Sam's boxers, pushing them down and then gently stroking his hard length as she kissed his nipples.

"You tease," Sam growled, grabbed her hands, pushed her roughly back onto the bed and pinned her arms down firmly above her head. He looked hungrily at her heaving breasts that were begging him for attention, which he readily paid. Softly, he sucked at her nipples before gently biting down on them.

"Saaaam…" June begged.

"You just can't wait to get fucked, can you?"

She shot him a glare, but didn't oppose. "No I can't, so if you don't hurry up, I'll just have someone else do it."

"Aww, sweetheart, now, we both know that you'd neither find anyone ready to put up with your sassy ass, nor do you want anyone else to have you first but me."

"Screw you to hell, Sam Winchester," June hissed.

"Funny, actually I planned on screwing you to hell."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," She smiled wickedly, which she'd soon enough regret.

"Don't ask for promises you're scared I'll fulfil."

June flinched then, which wasn't particularly useful as Sam had her body pinned down and her arms in a firm grip.

"Too late for second thoughts, June."

If June was honest, she was turned on by Sam's complete control. All her life, she'd always been the one controlling everything, and though she wasn't a submissive character, it felt nice for a change to know that someone else held the reigns and there was nothing she could do about it.

But she'd rather die than show him that.

"You mean it's too late for you to resist me," She whispered seductively.

"You sure are answering back a lot for someone this dripping wet for me."

June gasped in surprise when Sam slid two fingers inside of her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get your bantering rejoinder."

"You damn son of a bitch," June cursed, "Is emotional torture a turn on for you?"

"Please. Don't pretend you have any emotions."

"Well, unlike you, I have a soul." June cringed in suppressed pleasure when Sam's thumb teasingly brushed over her clit.

"You don't seem to mind me not having one, otherwise you wouldn't have come to me, _begging_ me to deflower you. And if you're honest with yourself," Sam roughly pushed her legs apart, making her cry out. "You know you don't have much of a soul either."

He didn't have to say why: June knew all to well.

She'd washed her brother's blood off her hands tonight, and one hour later was begging Sam to fuck her. No one who had just one bit of a functioning soul would do such a thing.

June tensed up when she felt his sizeable erection against her inner thigh; no way would he fit inside of her, he was way too big. Panic rose in her throat, it mingled with lust and left her in confusion as to what she wanted.

Sam let go of her hands as to better support himself over her, and he kissed her almost gently before he plunged into her with one powerful, deep thrust.

June clawed her nails into his back; she thought she must burst from the pain that exploded in her sensitive middle. She whimpered and wanted to cry out her pain, but Sam didn't let her; he kept her mouth otherwise busy.

All June wanted in that moment was for him to pull out of her, it hurt so damn much. _This_ was what people got so worked up about? It fucking _hurt_.

She pounded her hands against his chest since her cries were to no avail; but all it did was for Sam to relentlessly thrust into her, over and over again. Just when she thought he'd finally let the pain pass, the next thrust came.

Sam felt June tense underneath him, around him, and he vaguely perceived her cries and her hammering against his chest, but he couldn't care. If he was completely honest, her struggle and temporary pain was a turn-on.

But even if he had wanted to go easy on her, he wouldn't have. Her body felt too damn good; being inside of her felt better than good: she was wet, hot and so fucking _tight_.

June was still struggling, still trying to get him out of her, even though she knew Sam never would.

And then the pain turned into pleasure. June's whimpering cries, her cussing protests and her futile attempts to get Sam off and out of her turned into lustful moans, and she dug her nails into his back, drawing him deeper and bucking her hips against him instead of away from.

God, he felt so good inside of her…

Sam smiled roguishly as he felt June relax and give up her struggles; he had her where he wanted her.

"God, Sam…" She moaned. "Harder…"

"The ex-virgin likes it rough, who knew." June hated herself for being the reason for the triumph in Sam's voice. If she had loved him, this would have been so much less defeating.

June arched her back so that her hips met his thrusts, and the slight stinging pain it still caused her tasted sweet. She moaned out loud when he hit a spot that made her muscles clench; and he hit it repeatedly and mercilessly.

"Fuck, Sam… oh, God." She scratched her nails across his back, leaving long red streaks.

Sam slid a hand under her back, pushing her onto him harder as his thrusts came faster and deeper.

June's perception was reduced to the building orgasm that threatened to rack her whole body, and she didn't hear the headboard crash against the wall in tune with Sam's thrusts and she didn't realize how the animalistic sounds they made could have been right out of a porn movie. Or a documentary about mating habits of animals.

Sam felt June's virgin walls tighten around him, and a moan escaped his lips.

"Sam…fuck, I'm…"

He enjoyed his name rolling off her tongue, letting him know her need for him. Her lust for him.

Sam felt his own orgasm roll over him as June screamed out hers, bucking her hips against him as she came. One last time he drove into her, hard and deep, before he came inside of her and then pulled out.

June's whole body glistened with sweat, and her breath came quick and shallow as she fell back onto the bed, her muscles as slack as her body exhausted.

"Not bad for a virgin." Sam smiled smugly as he lay down beside her.

"Bite me."

"Baby, I just did."

Tears would have stung in June's eyes if she had any emotions left to spill them. This had been the exact opposite of what she had wanted all her life; maybe she hadn't expected her first time to be all rose petals on the floor and candles all around, but she most certainly hadn't wanted it to be in a cheap motel room with a guy she'd known for a couple of days and wasn't sure yet whether to like or to hate.

At the moment, dislike clearly prevailed. Sadly, that didn't stop her lust springing into action when Sam's hand grabbed her thigh and slowly caressed the sensitive inner side, creeping closer and closer to her cunt.

"But since you offered so nicely, I'll gladly go another round."

"Buddy, I so didn't offer."

"But you ain't declining, either."

June forced her tongue to form the words: 'Go to hell and take your hand off of me' but none of it came out; said tongue instead traitorously intertwined with Sam's.

She didn't know how she could let him win again, how she could allow her lust to get the better of her _again_ and to let Sam have his way with her. All she knew was that he fucked her again, maybe even harder and rougher than the first time, and that she liked it way too much.

**###**

**Yay for kinkiness. :D The next chapter might take a little longer to be up, it's been rather stressful, but it'll probably be this year... :D **

**Discreet hint: Reviews are an amazing accelerant. ;) **

**Anyhow, have a lovely X-Mas and I hope you get lots of nice presents! **


	9. Lost Souls

June sat up, ignoring her exhausted body's protests at the exercise, and stood up. Her knees nearly gave way underneath her, something Sam sadly caught.

"Maybe you should lie down a bit longer, June… regain your strength."

June whirled around and glared daggers at him and was tempted to give in to the burning desire to knock that cocky attitude right out of him. Luckily, she didn't have to use violence: She had words. "I wasn't aware I used any tonight."

"Naturally not, since I had the most work."

"I'm sure, that's why you were the one insisting on a second round."

"That was just to see how fuckable you are without virginal inhibitions."

"What am I, part of a case study? You were as ready to fuck me as a virgin as when I wasn't a virgin, and don't try telling me you even cared what I was, as long as you could bang me it was all good for you."

June was sure she'd hate herself for this the rest of her life; for giving in this easily. She should have known Sam would revel in her defeat and enjoy the torment it caused her to want him so much.

Sam should probably feel sorry for not going easy on her the first time she ever slept with a guy; but he didn't.

He would never admit it, as it was yet another proof of his lacking soul, but knowing he was the first to have June cry out his name as he sent her over the edge, being the first to be inside that tempting body and being the one to brand her, to spoil her for all others, it made him feel triumphant and satisfied.

Sam noticed the subliminal unease with which June moved naked in front of him as she picked up her clothes from the floor, and he smiled at the thought of being the first man to see her like that.

"Oh, yeah, you dwell in your victory, congratulations," June hissed.

"Turning a stuck-up snobby rich girl into a horny, moaning whore is something worth celebrating, yes." Sam wondered how far he could push her before she'd do what any other woman would have done a long time ago: Leave him. Deep down, he hoped he'd _never_ push June that far.

"Actually, being a whore implies sexual intercourse with several men, so unless you're offering a ménage a dioux, I don't see how that fits my profile." June smiled sickeningly sweetly and resolutely picked up her bra from the ground.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "You're leaving?"

"No, first I'm going to take a shower, then I'm leaving."

"Just like that?" Sam raised an eyebrow. In his experience, all those women who didn't expect payment for sex wanted to talk, cuddle or something of that sort.

June turned on the threshold to the bathroom. "Unless you want to discuss foreign politics and the increase in gas prices first, yeah, just like that." And she shut the door behind her and turned the key in the lock twice.

Sam chuckled and leaned against the headrest, listening to the water running, trying hard not to imagine how it would slither over June's skin.

#

June bit her lip, trying to ignore the hammering ache in her lower abdomen as she stepped into the shower.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the sad state of hygiene of the motel bathroom that reminded her of what she'd just done, with whom and where.

Her mother sure had left her a fucked up mess.

June held the hot jet of water to her middle, hoping it would ease the sore, but she couldn't shut out the pleasure she'd felt exploding there twice the past hours.

As she dried off and put on her clothes again, she realized Sam was right: She had no soul. Not in the usual sense.

Yet she didn't care; why should she? It wasn't like anything could hurt her anymore. Seeing her life fall to bits and pieces, it had voided the last remaining emotional touch she had had; now all she cared about was surviving, because it was the only thing she could still do, and maybe about Sam. He was the only one still able to reach her through that shell of uncaring numbness she had built around her.

Two lost souls who enjoyed making each other's life hell, well that sure sounded like a fun existence.

June let out a humourless, dry laugh, tied her hair back and went back into the other room.

Sam had put on his jeans again, but not his shirt, as if he knew exactly what effect his half-naked body had on June.

But she'd had her serving of defeat for tonight.

"Okay then, I suspect we'll stay in touch, seeing as I involuntarily popped up on demon radar and you need me to collect Alphas to get your soul back," June stepped towards the door.

"Not to mention because you need us to save your rich ass from monsters coming your way," Sam smirked as he leaned against the doorframe.

"You know," June looked up to him, "There are other hunters out there who'll probably be more than willing to help out a wealthy damsel in distress. You're just one option amongst many."

June smiled sweetly as she saw Sam take in the ambiguity of her last sentence.

"Even so, I'm still your first and favourite option, princess. No need denying that. Oh, and I wonder what those other hunters might do when they find out you're just another freak of nature."

"I wonder what they'll do when they find out _Sammy_ doesn't have a soul. You know, in case that tiny bit of information should accidentally slip out of me."

"I was more aware of things slipping into you, than out."

"They don't last in me very long."

Sam's eyes narrowed dangerously, and June just smiled and stepped outside. New round: June 1, Sam 0.

"What, no goodbye kiss?"

June stopped, stood on her tiptoes and neared her lips to Sam's until they almost touched. "No," She whispered and turned on her heel.

And Sam had thought he'd finally beat her.

#

Dean opened the door to the motel room, expecting to find it empty, Sam gone to do his own thing again; but Sam sat very contently on his bed, balancing his computer on his lap and drinking beer from a can with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Definitely not what he had expected.

"Hey," Sam quickly looked up from the screen.

"Hey," Dean replied meekly. "What are you so happy about?"

"Nothin'."

"Yeah, then why does it stink like sex in here?" Dean had actually just meant it as a jest and was accordingly shocked when Sam just huffed, shook his head and didn't reply.

"Please tell me you didn't…"

"Hey, she asked for it."

"Jesus Christ, Sam! That girl's brother died tonight, she had to see her mother as a crazy fang and you take advantage of her messed up psyche to bang her?"

"Oh, trust me, she wasn't messed up. Completely fine."

"Says soulless guy who wouldn't know grief if it hit him in the face."

"I'm telling you, Dean, she's fine."

"I have my doubts about that," Dean replied; throwing herself at his robot brother surely proved that June was definitely _not_ alright but rather had serious issues.

"Whatever, dude, not really your business."

"Really, Sam? Because June is my business, too, since she might be the only one able to help us out getting your soul back."

"You think she's going to leave her five million dollar mansion behind to hit the road and camp in ramshackle houses with demons on her ass just to help us get my soul back? She doesn't care, Dean."

As much as he hated to admit it, Sam was right. They still had one card to play, though: "June isn't stupid, she knows she'll never survive unless she comes with us."

"If she really is that smart, Dean, then she'll know that staying away from us will probably serve her better."

#

June's sleep had been deep and dreamless, thankfully. She woke up at noon to the battering of rain on her window panes.

"Well, ain't that just suitable weather," June grumbled and dragged her battered body out of bed. A look in the mirror told her that she had love bites (for the lack of a better word, because love definitely had nothing to do with it) and regular bite marks all over body, a bruise here and there and a glow to her face.

Great get-up for telling her father Brent was missing.

June soon learned, though, that she wouldn't have to tell her father that. A call came in from the police, telling her of a private jet crashing, all passengers dead; all passengers being the pilot, co-pilot and her father.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes." June replied automatically; she hadn't been able to process any of the information given her. She didn't realize yet that she was alone, completely alone, and that her family was dead.

"My condolences. Is there anyone we should inform about your father's death?"

"No, I'll handle it, thank you." June hung up. For ten minutes, she just stood there, phone in her hand and looked out the window.

Then she shook her head and called her attorneys to handle the inheritance. After that, she called her real estate agent to take care of selling the house, after that, she called college and told them she'd be dropping out of pre-med and after that, she called Sam and said she'd be coming by.

Just like that, a whole family's lives were cleaned up and stored away.

#

"June, you okay?" Sam frowned as he opened the door. Not that he was a great judge of things, but something definitely was wrong with her.

"Perfect," She smiled emptily and entered their room, "I'm the lucky heiress of twenty-five million dollars, and who knew my father had a bank account in Switzerland worth another ten million?"

"June…?" Dean wondered by how many degrees her sanity had decreased since yesterday morning. By the look of it, at least by fifty percent.

"Shame about the private jet, though, it would have been another five-hundred thousand, but the insurance assured me they'll pay every last cent, so not to worry."

"June, what the hell?" Sam interrupted impatiently.

"Nothing. So let's get on the road."

"Alright, alright, stop." Dean held up a hand. "We're not going anywhere before you tell us what the hell's going on."

June sighed. "Geez, fine. Plane crashed, my father's dead and I'm inheriting all his millions. I dropped out of college and am now ready to kill some freaks, so could we please just go?"

"No," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"What else do you want? Should I squeeze out a tear to serve your need for drama? Throw a hysterical fit, maybe?"

Sam shot a sideways glance at Dean: "Is that normal for people with souls?"

"Definitely not."

"Hilarious, guys. Now, look, I can't change what happened, alright? I don't see the point in crying over a life that never was one to begin with."

"Alright, sweetheart," Dean sighed, pushed her down onto the chair and poured a generous shot of whiskey, "Now let the adrenaline wear off, then we'll talk."

"You won't believe that I'm fine, will you?"

"Nope."

June sighed, drank the whiskey in one gulp. Dean wordlessly refilled her glass, and when she had emptied that, too, they let two minutes pass in silence.

"Okay, fine, I'm not fine." June eventually sighed. "But it doesn't matter now. I won't be breaking apart anytime soon, so let's just please skip the pity round, alright?

"Alright," Dean agreed, "But let me just tell you pushing it away doesn't help."

"It does for now."

June had the sneaky feeling that for her, it would probably always work. Either, she'd die before ever bothering to care about the loss of her broken family, or she'd numb completely and would never be _able_ to care. Whichever came first.

"Okay," She set down the glass. "So what's our next move?"

"Let me get this straight: You're just going to drop everything of your sweet life here to go after violent monsters?"

"Well, for one, my life was anything but sweet, really, and two: I don't see me surviving very long strutting around in my Prada heels – given that I owned any – and my sharpest weapon being my nail file, so call it basic survival instinct to kill the monsters before they kill me."

"Good call."

"You know that it might never be over, right, that there might always be things that'll hunt you?"

June looked at Dean's caring eyes and wished a man like him had entered her life sooner; maybe he could have saved her and prevented her from falling into that black hole the deaths of her father and brother and the betrayal of her mother had ripped.

Now it was too late.

"Yes. But what other choice do I have, really?"

"None," Sam remarked.

"Your unbound efforts to make me feel better touch me to the point of tears, Sam."

"Careful you don't slip on that sarcasm dripping from your lips."

June shot him a glare, having a feeling Sam intended to hint at something else dripping from her, but she wouldn't rise to that bait.

"Okay, okay, you two, seriously." Dean ran a hand over his eyes, trying to chase away images of Sam and June in a very intimate moment, "If you're going hunting with us, let's set up some ground rules."

"Rules as in: Death penalty when not obeyed, or more like optional guidelines?"

Dean just looked at her.

"Alright, death penalty when not obeyed, I get it."

"First off: You two save the cuddly talk for when I'm not around. I'm having enough problems blocking certain images from my mind as it is."

June felt heat rising to her cheeks and hoped nobody noticed, which was a foolish hope considering her pale complexion that hid nothing. Luckily, though, Dean continued talking and kept Sam from making a remark.

"Then: When we hunt, you step back and follow our orders."

June nearly bit her tongue off not to say anything against that. She knew Dean was right; she was a rookie who had no clue how things in this business worked, but it went against her every fibre accepting orders and _agreeing_ to accept them.

Sam did a fairly poor job suppressing a grin at June's obvious discontent as to that rule. She made a mental note to pay him back for that.

"Then: You either wear an anti-possession charm at all times or you tattoo it on you, whatever floats your boat. Last thing we need is a demon in you."

"Trying hard not to hear the dirtiness in that, thank you very much."

"Another important rule: No secrets. And I do mean that very seriously."

June bit back her remark about whether that also counted for what kind of underwear she wore; she had a feeling it wouldn't help the discussion any, much less with Sam in the room.

"Alright, lastly: Rules are subject to change and can be added to."

"Let me guess: Whenever you feel like it."

"You learn quickly, I'll give you that." Dean stood up. "Alright, we got a lead on a Ruguru up in Maryland. Let's hit the road."

**###**

**Sorry for the wait, family business called. **

**Anyhow, I hope you all had a wondeful Christmas! :) **


	10. Dinner At Tiffany's

June wondered how it could be that she had never felt as comfortable and at peace as when travelling with the Winchester brothers.

Alright, so maybe peace was a little exaggerated.

The skeezy motel rooms, she could deal with. The weapon training and lore lectures, she could deal with, too. The long drives and bad food, she could deal with.

_But working a damn case with Sam? _

"Why are we here again?" June grumbled, studying the menu of the expensive restaurant she and Sam were at. Never had she liked these awfully formal establishments with the overpriced food and blasé waiters.

Sam smiled to himself as he closed his menu, not particularly interested. He'd seen June's face falling when Dean told them that the Ruguru they were after probably worked in this four-star restaurant and they had to get in undercover to make him out, follow him home and capture him. Most inconspicuous way to do so was act as just another rich couple on their weekly night out.

And if one looked only superficially, they did fit in, though they were a lot younger than the average clientele. Only on a closer look one would notice the rough edges on Sam's face, the cold look in the eyes of both of them and the threatening air Sam radiated.

Nobody bothered to look closely, though, so all people saw was a handsome young couple having dinner on a Saturday night.

"Well, we have to watch out for any of the waiters showing signs of approaching cannibalism, then we have to wait until his shift is over and take him out."

"Sam," June closed her menu with a decisive clap. "Waiters in places like this don't work in shifts, they work the whole night, which, considering that they only offer five-course menus, could be up til three in the morning. And nobody waits around this long; we'd look suspicious and might as well stamp 'hunter' on our foreheads. So what do we say we just find this guy quickly, get out of here and have dinner in a place where they sell a decent bloody steak instead of this entrecote crap?"

"You just want to get out of those clothes," Sam remarked and shot her an amused look. He'd seen exactly how she tugged at her lilac silk dress every time she thought he wasn't looking, how she hated the confinement of it and how it limited her movements to small steps and definitely no bending down.

"Indeed I do, but not for you."

"Never say never. It wouldn't be the first time you give in."

"No, because last time I did, it really was the last time. I'll just file it under 'I was young and foolish' and never look at it again."

"Cute attempt, June, but you know you'll never hold that up," Sam grinned roguishly. "Truth is, now that you've had a taste of it, you want more."

"I'm very tempted to say 'bite me' right now, but I don't want to get your hopes up, so I'll just stick to: 'Go to hell.'"

"Already there, sweetheart."

"Sadly, not all the way. Men and their incapability to ask for directions."

Sam shook his head smilingly. "You should be glad I don't have a soul."

"Oh, is that so?" June arched an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Yeah, because no man with a soul could possibly bear your attitude. You'd have died a virgin."

"Don't flatter yourself, Sam. Despite your low opinion of me, there are indeed men with souls more than willing to 'bear my attitude'."

"Who are after your money, not you," Sam stated.

June narrowed her eyes; he was right. Nobody had ever truly liked her for herself; no man had ever loved her for the sake of her inner values, but rather her bank account's. "Are you saying you're any different than them?"

Sam wondered whether to admit that she intrigued him, and that he couldn't care less about her wealth. He decided against it; he wouldn't admit feelings he didn't truly _feel_. "Well. I _neither_ care about your money _nor_ about you, so I suppose I am different than them, yes."

June shrugged, unaffected by his uncaring words. "In as much as that you're honest about it."

Sam's analytical brain tried figuring out what had numbed June so much that she wasn't even able to care or feel about anything. How could someone with a soul be so dead inside?

June, meanwhile, was wondering how it could be she was sharing more of herself with Sam than she ever had with her brother or father. She knew Sam wouldn't care, _couldn't_ even care, yet she was as honest with him as she had seldom been. More still, she felt _comfortable _around him.

Since jabbing was part of their routine, though, she asked: "Tell me again why I had to go with you and not Dean?"

Sadly the waiter that now approached their table cheated June out of Sam's answer. "May I take your order, Ma'am?"

'I'm dying for a steak, rare, and a heap of French fries,' June was tempted to say, but having been raised into this kind of lifestyle, the usual came out of her mouth: "I would like the seafood five-course menu and a glass of Pinot Grigio."

"Very well, Ma'am. And for you, sir?"

Sam smiled at June, never taking his eyes off her as he said: "I'll take whatever my lovely but sadly complicated and expensive wife is having. Just make that a beer for me, would you?"

The waiter didn't even flinch. "Certainly, sir."

"You know, on second thought, make that a whole bottle of Pinot Grigio." June smiled sweetly at him. "God knows I need it to endure my husband."

The waiter nodded, wished he'd let someone else have taken their table and left before he would have to witness a marital argument.

"_Expensive wife_?" June had trouble to keep her voice down. "We're here on _my _money, Sam!"

"Your father's money, which you have so far prided yourself of never using or calling your own, so why bitch about it now? Oh, and don't think I haven't noticed that you didn't complain about 'lovely' and 'complicated'."

"I am _not_ complicated, you just rob me of my last nerve!"

"Fair enough. You're an easy girl. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The waiter approached them again, and they fell silent for the time it took him to put Sam's beer in front of him and to pour June her wine. "Ah, thank God." She beamed at him. "Makes him at least _a bit _more bearable, you know."

June crossed her legs underneath the table and was sure to kick Sam's shin in doing so.

"What the hell was that for?" He hissed when they were alone again.

"What was what for?" June pouted her lips and took a sip of her wine.

"Very mature," Sam narrowed his eyes.

"I can afford it, seeing as I'm only eighteen years old."

"True," Sam arched an eyebrow that told June nothing good would come her way; it made her tingly from perverse excitement, "And in this state, you happen to be too young to drink alcohol." Sam leaned forwards and took the glass of wine from her hand. "As a loving husband it is my duty to take care of you, sweetheart, and that includes sparing you from getting in trouble with the law."

June swallowed hard on that acid anger, and bit out through clenched teeth: "Oh, sure, by all means, go ahead and tell them I'm a minor, it'll make our marriage story so much more believable."

"Trust me, sweetheart, it will." Sam beckoned to the waiter, who immediately appeared at their side.

"Yes, sir?"

"Excuse us for the inconvenience, but my wife is still not quite accustomed to being pregnant and ordered wine on mistake. If you could just take it away again. We'll pay the whole bottle, of course."

"Certainly, sir, and congratulations." The waiter wondered just how these two had found each other and whether they got their kicks out of humiliating each other publicly; he just wished they wouldn't include him. But he nodded and took the glass and bottle away.

June nearly bit her tongue off to keep from yelling, and had to clench her hands into tight fists as to not smash the place to the ground. New score: June 1, Sam 1.

"Alright, that's it, first chance I get, I'll murder you, and I'll do so with a smile on my lips."

"Awww, you wouldn't want to make our child a half-orphan, now, would you?"

"Better half-orphan than having a father like you."

"Wonder what that says about the mother's choice."

June was about to retort when she felt a snowball punch her in the gut.

"June?" Sam's voice was rid of all taunt, it sounded almost concerned. It wasn't like June to step back from a witty rejoinder.

"Yeah, um…" She stifled a cry as the snowball squeezed around her solar plexus and she bent over in anguish. "He's, ah."

"June, what?"

She forced herself to look up and around, to look for changes, new people in the room… and caught the chef who'd stepped out of the kitchen to talk to one of the waiters standing at the very far end of the room. "Sam, uh, it's the… ow, crap. It's the chef."

"What?"

"Ruguru. It's the chef."

"How do you know?"

"You think I'm cringing because it's fun? I can feel it, damnit."

"I thought it only worked on Alphas."

"Well, apparently, it doesn't exclusively." June forced herself to sit up as that the other guests wouldn't get suspicious. The icy squeeze loosened when the chef stepped back into the kitchen, and June took a relieved breath.

"You okay?"

"Peachy." June grunted and reached for Sam's beer. "I could have really used that wine now, you know."

"You'll get a bottle of whiskey later." Sam motioned to the waiter again, who began to wonder what he'd done wrong to deserve having to serve this couple tonight.

"Could you bring us the check? My wife's not feeling well."

June vowed that if he said it was because of her alleged pregnancy, she would use her last remaining strength to lunge across the table and throttle him. Sam surprisingly didn't add anything to that, though.

June handed the waiter her black American Express and gave a generous tip, then she struggled to stand up. The queasy feeling still turmoiled inside of her, and she could feel it robbing her of her strength.

"How attentive," June growled under her breath as Sam helped her into her coat, "And how very fake."

"The thing about appearances is that they don't have to be real to work."

"I wonder what's next on your act 'caring husband'," June hissed as they left the restaurant. She staggered at the stairs, hating how weak her body was and hating the fact she wasn't able to do anything about it even more.

Sam noticed June's weakness, of course; nothing escaped his notice, really. Even though he wasn't capable of caring, he didn't want to see her suffer, either.

June let out a sound of protest when Sam swept her up wordlessly, carrying her down the street bridal style. "What the hell? Let me down, Sam! I'm well capable of walking!"

"No, you're not."

"Damn straight I am, so let! Me! Down!"

"June, stop acting like a stubborn three year old." Sam said evenly. "For once, swallow your pride and accept help, alright?"

That was so unlike their usual bickering that June stopped flailing her arms around in an attempt to make him set her down and let him carry her to her Impala. Sam shifted her weight so that he could open the passenger's door and gently set her down.

"You're not seriously implying that you're driving my baby?"

"You sound exactly like Dean. What is with Impalas and their owners?"

"We know what we have and we cherish it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Hand over the keys already."

"No way."

"June. I don't plan on going out in a car crash, and you're in no condition to drive, so hand over the damn keys before I take them."

"I can't believe this," June growled and pulled out the keys from her handbag, reluctantly dropping them in Sam's outstretched hand. "I'm so sorry, baby." She caressed the dashboard.

Sam shook his head, probably rolled his eyes – June was too occupied with grieving over her car to see – and walked around the Impala to get in behind the wheel.

"Sam, uh…" Her tongue knotted in her mouth, refusing to say the following words: "Er, um, well, thank you. For… you know."

"You're welcome." No dwelling in her discomfort, no tease, no taunt. Just a simple 'you're welcome'.

"Alright, can we please switch back to the bickering, 'cause this just creeps me out."

"You mean you're uncomfortable with anything that doesn't jab at you and keeps you from thinking about your family."

"Yes, thanks for pointing that out. Exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Well, I was wondering whether to comment on that, or rather the fact your dress slipped."

June looked down at herself and really, the silk had moved in all the wrong places, revealing most of her thin-laced bra and leaving her thighs wholly bare.

"That so wouldn't have happened had I walked myself."

"Don't act the prude we both know you're not."

"It ain't so much about prudery as rather preserving these precious sights for those worthy."

"There isn't really anything I haven't seen, princess."

"Or so you thought. See, I got this fancy little tattoo the other day, which I thought best placed somewhere no demon would see it, or anyone, for that matter, really…"

Sam tightened his hands around the steering wheel.

"It hurt quite a bit, seeing as the skin there's really sensitive, but I'd say it's definitely worth it. It's a nice little pattern, just for me to see…Oh, and the tattoer, of course, he seemed very pleased by my decision where to place it. See, I was debating what would be best; first, I thought shoulder blade, then I considered ribcage, just underneath my breast, but then I thought my groin might work better. So that it would show should I ever decide to wear low-rise jeans in combination with a short little top. However, I did also like the location of my inner thigh. Of course, it would have to be very far up so that it wouldn't be revealed by the hotpants I always wear in summer… "

"Damn you, Hallberg." Sam cursed between clenched teeth. He inevitably had to think of the softness of June's skin, how she had felt under his hands and how some tattoo guy had been allowed to see such an intimate spot of _his_ June.

"What's the matter, Winchester?" June smiled and let her hand wander up Sam's thigh provocatively slowly. "Curious about that one part you haven't seen about me, after all?"

"I'll find it sooner than later, don't you worry." Sam forced himself to take June's hand away; he couldn't let himself be distracted, not now. They had to close this case first. "And you better hope you didn't get it on your thigh."

"Why's that, Sam?" June revelled in having the upper hand again.

Apparently, jealousy and possessiveness still worked without a soul. Sam didn't particularly like the thought of a tattoo blemishing June's perfect, pale and well-shaped thighs.

"Judging from your promiscuous, horny streak shining through all too vividly, I take it you've recovered."

"That's not the answer to my question." June leaned back and looked out the window smilingly. "But rather the more or less discreet attempt of averting the topic and putting the focus on me again instead of you not wanting to admit that despite how annoying you may find me, you can't resist me, either."

"Charm yourself all you want, June. It doesn't change that you came to me first."

"You're going to hold that over me forever, aren't you?"

"Definitely."

"Fine. Won't make that mistake again." June took a deep breath as that her breasts rose temptingly in the revealing dress, and her words had set the new bet: Who would waver and give in first to the devouring attraction they both felt?

**###**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites and alerts! :) You guys make my day. **

**Have an awesome New Year and see you in the next year. ;) **

**xoxo**


	11. Bondages Of Luxury

"Well, you look like hell wound over, what happened?" Dean greeted them.

"Nice seeing you, too." June remarked and kicked off her heels. "We know who the Ruguru is."

"That was quick."

"That's because I'm extremely capable."

"Actually, you're just a freak of nature happening to be able to sense supernatural creatures," Sam remarked dryly.

"Whatever, ends up being the same," June shrugged. "Besides, unlike other freaks of nature in this room, I have a soul."

Dean groaned and ran a hand over his face. 'Here we go again…'

"Not like you use it much."

"That's because no human soul could possibly stand spending just one hour with you."

"I recall you being quite enthusiastic about spending time with me, and for longer than one hour, too."

"Alright, guys, why don't you interrupt your kinky talk and let us take out the Ruguru first?"

June shot Sam a final glare, then turned to Dean: "It's the chef of that restaurant."

"How'd you know?"

"Felt it."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Nope."

Dean turned to Sam exasperatedly. His younger brother, or the guy pretending to be him, anyways, raised his eyebrows. "See what I'm putting up with all the time?"

"As if you're any better," June snapped and darted into the bathroom.

After the door had fallen closed behind her, Dean asked: "Seriously, though, what happened?"

Sam sighed. "She had like a seizure, or attack, or whatever, and then she just knew it was that guy."

"I thought her freaky gift thing only worked on Alphas."

"Apparently not."

"I don't like this. I mean, where'd she get that from?"

"No idea. It doesn't sound like something Azazel would have done, you know, same deal as me? I don't think demons want anyone able to track them down."

"So if it isn't demonic, then what is it?"

"You got me."

"You know… there might be other stuff going on with her, too."

"Yeah, so?"

"Oh, right, I forgot you're _into_ freaky and possibly evil girls, no pun intended."

"Ha-ha. Now that we've all had a good laugh, you mind elaborating?"

"Sam, we've got no clue what her angle really is! This girl suddenly developed a freakish radar for monsters, and we're not going to question that? I'm sorry, but June's taking this all a little too calmly for my comfort."

"That's because she doesn't care, Dean. Not any more than I do."

"Oh, there goes comfort of the year." Dean snapped sarcastically. His brother's soul was on the line here, and he wasn't willing to take people on board he wasn't sure about whose side they were on in the end.

Truth be told, he didn't think June was anything like Ruby, stringing them along to some evil master plan; no chick who listens to ACDC and drives a Chevy Impala could be downright wrong.

However, unless proven otherwise, Dean would not trust her 100%.

Smart girls who knew how to handle a weapon were generally on his 'Don't turn your back on them' list, and June was ranking especially high.

And women Sam found interesting were definitely on that list, too.

#

Sulking, June lay on the motel bed and stared up at the ceiling. Sam and Dean had gone to catch the Ruguru while she'd been ordered to stay behind; the official reason being that she was too strung out to hunt. June held the suspicion, though, that Dean didn't want to have her along; she couldn't even blame him for it. She didn't expect him to trust her fully, and it _was_ his brother's soul this was all about. June wouldn't trust herself if she were in Dean's place, either.

With a sigh, June sat up, ignoring the protesting ache in her stomach, and flipped on the TV. For the first time in a long while, she actually longed for some luxury; a hot bubble bath sounded like a damn good idea right now. Maybe a massage. Ah, sweet luxury…

40 million dollars.

Even if she'd live to see her 70th birthday, which, taking the current circumstances into consideration, seemed damn unlikely, she'd never be able to spend that all; a short calculation told her she'd have to spend over 2000 dollars _a day_ to be bankrupt at the age of 70. Not counting in the fair amount of interest that would be piled on top of all that.

'Money isn't worth anything…' June thought darkly, in a seldom moment of melancholy, 'Just like life is. Worthless, if there's no one to spend it with.'

Now, June couldn't exactly complain about a lack of suitors; ever since news about her father's death had spread and people thought her brother to be gone for good (as they rightly did, still June thought it very morbid) there were countless men just dying to put a ring on her finger and receive a credit card to her well-filled account in return. Did any of them care that she was merely 18 and had just lost her entire family? No.

Money could apparently heal anything; she had to learn that after her mother's alleged death thirteen years back.

She received ten calls a day from 'old friends' who 'just wanted to see how their dear friend June was doing'; in short: Money stunk to the heavens and called out all the suck-ups.

June knew all she had to do was choose her pick; she could have anyone she wanted.

James Morton, 23, good manners, decent taste when it came to art, gentleman and a considerable amount of money on his own (which he wouldn't mind doubling by marriage).

Sir John Fitzgerald, 22, volunteered in orphanages, of the English nobility, not wealthy but not yet poor. Somehow related to the English crown.

Basil Ivancan, 23, oil money, no outstanding personality other than he likes showing his wealth and likes spending his vacations on a yacht near Greece. Oh, and donates a dollar or two to some non-profit organisation. Said to be very charming and loving.

Yeah, there were a few others like them lined up, and June could have any one of them.

It just sucked ass that the only man she could ever think of wanting was a penniless hunter ten years her senior, whose greatest assets were his body and his smart mouth, and who wasn't precisely known for his tact, wealth or his commitment to the upstanding society. Oh, and he lacked his soul, since it was sharing a cell in hell with Lucifer and Michael.

June let out a rough laugh at the thought of showing up at a gala dinner with Sam at her side.

Her phone ripped her out of her contemplations: "Yeah."

"Pack up, princess, we got the Ruguru and are going to take him to Crowley straight away."

"Really, I thought we'd go to Disneyland first."

"If you don't watch it, we'll hand you over to Crowley, too."

"Aww, you'd really share your toys with the King of Hell? Now, _that_ hurt, Sammy. But I completely understand you'd like temptation out of the way." June purred the last part.

"You know, with all your lusty, promiscuous and wannabe witty attitude, you'd really make a good demon, June."

"I've heard you liked screwing those, so I suppose I would make a good demon, yes."

June 2 – Sam 1.

#

June waited in the car while Sam and Dean delivered the Ruguru to the demons waiting outside.

Demons.

June shivered from the feeling they sent down her spine; kind of like the sound of nail on chalkboard, but sensual and not audible. She clenched her teeth together so tightly her jaw hurt, and hoped to heavens they'd be done here quickly.

The Winchesters, however, thought it suitable staying for a little chat.

Eventually, they came around and got back in the car.

"From your amused faces, I take it they didn't tell you where Crowley is."

Sam smiled sarcastically. "My, aren't you just the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Please. My sharp tongue is my best asset."

"Debatable."

"Have any other suggestions for that place, Sam?"

"None, actually. I've got several candidates for your worst attributes, though."

Dean frowned sceptically, but didn't interrupt their bantering for once. He began to have doubts; doubts about June's will to help them getting Sam's soul back.

'That girl's so screwed to hell, she's actually enjoying bickering with soulless Robo-Sam. No way would she want normal Sammy back.' It occurred to him as he steered the Impala back on the road. 'Then again: She doesn't know how _my_ Sam is. What she doesn't know needn't concern her.'

June wouldn't be June, though, if these very thoughts hadn't occurred to her already. She decided postponing a decision until opportunity presented itself. For now, her main concern should be why she was having these feelings.

The crawling feeling the demons' presence had left on her skin still hadn't disappeared when they returned to the abandoned, ramshackle hut in the middle of nowhere they had made their shelter for the time being.

June had to admit that it was touching the limits of what she was willing to tolerate. Never would she admit, though, that she almost missed the perfect comfort of her millions-dollar mansion.

'What can I do, I'm just a girl, too,' June stepped out of the Impala and followed the Winchesters inside. 'I've got needs.'

She scratched her tingling spine. "Guys…"

"That's it, I'm done," Dean complained.

"With what?" Sam asked.

"Working for Crowley!"

"Guys." June started again.

"We're hunting, Dean, just like before."

"Yeah, with the difference being that now, I need a daily rape shower!"

"Guys!"

"What?" They asked simultaneously, equally unnerved.

"Something's wrong."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean huffed.

"No, I mean, like, wrong, here, now."

"Care to be less cryptic?"

June narrowed her eyes. "No need to take that snappy tone, Sam."

"I'll play a whole other tone if you don't talk business."

Dean shot a look at him, wondering again how any girl could fall for that cold-hearted son of a bitch next to him. June was _seriously_ damaged.

"Cute, Sam. I'd love to see that, but I'm afraid it'll have to wait until you've taken out the demons next door."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, the younger brother quietly pulling out the demon-killing knife. "How many?"

"Do I look like an X-Ray machine to you? I've got no freaking clue." Not quite the truth, but there was only so much June was willing to share.

"B minus for you, Hallberg." Sam glowered and brushed past her, Dean closely following behind.

"Go wait outside, June."

"But-"

Dean glared at her, and she bit back a hiss before storming outside. It occurred to her – again – that she shouldn't have agreed to the terms of hunting with them so easily. She wasn't used to being ordered around, and much less was she used obeying.

After twenty minutes of counting stars – she reached 12 before losing her patience – and kicking up dirt, June grumbled: "Sod this." and marched back inside.

Just to find the Winchesters tied up nicely, facing each other and not looking all too pleased.

June laughed hollowly. "Well, look at that, Christmas came early this year."

"Not a word, Hallberg."

"Or what? You seem in no position to do anything at the moment." She smiled smugly. "Do tell me who I have to send the flowers to."

"When I come free of these ropes, June, I swear to God I'll tie you up and hand-deliver you to Crowley."

"The tying up part doesn't sound all too bad, Sam, I mean, I'm all for kinky sex, but there'd be that little problem with the Crowley part of finding him. Unless the demons who overpowered you just now happened to be able to tell you where he set up 'hell base camp'."

Dean rolled his eyes, making a mental note to give Meg an extra-painful death for making him sit defencelessly in the sexual tension between his brother and June.

"Not quite," He decided to interrupt this conversation before he'd be forced to witness any more of this talk. Or worse; actual _action_. June really would make a good demon, and that thought was way too uncomfortable to fully appreciate her untying him first.

"Thanks," He pressed out anyways. The second he was free, he left the room to clear his head.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh, totally. It's like Christmas and Birthday together on one day." June smiled and slowly stepped closer towards Sam.

He hunched his broad shoulders and tried shaking the ropes off, but they were too tight as that he could dispose of them within seconds.

"Your time will come, princess, and when it does, don't count on me to untie you."

"Who said you'd be there, Sam? Seeing me tied up isn't a privilege granted to just anyone, you know."

"Oh, I'll be there."

"And you know that _how_?" June straddled his legs, provocatively pressing her body against his and brushing her lips over his jaw so faintly they didn't even touch it, just left behind the tickle of her breath.

Where that seductress in her came from, she had no idea, but she wouldn't go poking.

June teasingly ran her hand through his hair and looked into his eyes. Her lips hovered inches in front of his, and both of them were struggling to not lean forward that extra inch and meet the other's.

"Because I'll be the one tying you up."

"Promises, promises." June chanted mockingly, ran a fingertip over his lips.

They gazed into each other's eyes for a while, waiting for another to give in first and kiss the other, but they were both too damn proud for that. At least, for now.

"You know, the ropes aren't tied in front of me, June."

"Hm. My mistake." She breathed, then abruptly got up and rounded him. Her slender fingers nestled with the knots, and as she bent down, Sam could feel her breath on his neck. He wondered how Sam's soul would feel about June, and was almost scared of the answer.

He enjoyed June's company; as far as he could enjoy anything these days. The thought of missing it, of not being able to appreciate it, made the prospect of a soul much less appealing.

"So what now?" June inquired as she let Sam's restraints fall to the floor.

"Now we'll call Cass, then we'll hunt down Crowley."

"Who was Cass again?"

"The angel."

"Ah, right," June nodded, silently wondering when things like 'Oh, he's that angel I told you about' had started to sound normal.

The irony behind it all was that she had no use of angels anymore. The moment she had lost her faith in love, honour and family, her faith in God had gone, too. It was hard to believe in a good-hearted power when all you really saw was evil.

"And how you're going to find Crowley?"

"We're going to ask Samuel. He ought to know."

"I bet he's just dying to share, too."

"Well, if you were just a little more capable, you could tell us where Crowley was hiding out, but since you're not, we'll have to resort to other means."

"I'm so sorry that I have no clue how to work this monster radar thing, I must have forgotten the manual in my Gucci handbag back at home. Oh, wait, I never got one!"

"Guess you got to figure it out on your own."

"Suppose so. But if you want any of the apples of my tree, you better help watering it."

Sam turned around and looked at June, one eyebrow arched and amused smile playing around his lips. "I was under the impression that I've taken care of the _watering_ already. You seemed wet enough."

"Oh, sugar, this so wasn't what I was referring to. Someone apparently was asleep during grammar class and missed all the action about metaphors. So let me help you translating: You better help me figure this stuff out, or you can go soul-searching all on your own while I ask dear old Crowley for a little guidance on how to work this thing."

Sam's eyes twitched. After a short moment of contemplation, he just said musingly: "The title 'demon whore' _does_ suit you."

"You're the expert, Sam, you would know."

June 3 – Sam 1.

**###**

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	12. Good Call

'Note to self,' June thought as she regarded Castiel, 'Angels are socially awkward.'

And she was stuck with one while Dean and Sam were off for a family visit to their grandfather.

Peachy.

June sighed and wondered if this would be a moment a smoker longed for a cigarette. She sure longed for whiskey.

Sadly, none was around, and June thought: 'Might as well hit off a conversation.'

Castiel beat her to the punch. "Why are you helping the Winchesters, June?"

She dug him a bonus point for calling her by her second name. "I don't suppose you'll take 'Because I'm a helpful person' for an answer?"

"No. Your soul is cold, which excludes helpfulness from your motives."

June flinched barely noticeable. "How do you know that?"

"That your soul is cold? It is rather a feeling than true knowledge, as for certainty about your soul's condition I would have to read it. That is a rather excruciating experience."

"Thanks, I'll pass."

"I believe this is a situation where humans use the expression 'Good call'."

June let out a laugh in spite of herself. Maybe her life had turned all whacked, but it certainly had its moments.

She couldn't even be bothered to worry about her spiritual salvation (she somehow doubted it to be a good sign when an angel considered her soul cold).

"So what _is_ your motivation?"

"Honestly?" June leaned against the table, hoping the rotten wood wouldn't give way, "It was the only option that sounded halfway appealing."

"Camping in ramshackle huts and hunting demons capable of killing you is appealing to you?" Castiel tilted his head as if studying a particular interesting piece of an exhibition. It reminded June of the puppy she had once wanted.

"It beats sitting in fancy parlours and having the demons hunt you," She replied quietly. "Plus, I have nobody left to call home and…"

'…Sam is the only one remotely able to create the illusion of belonging somewhere.' She finished in thought.

Sam didn't make her feel like a dead, ice-hearted bitch who'd lost touch to humanity; simply because he was exactly the same. June didn't have to _pretend_ around him. He let her be that way and didn't pose the demands every person with a soul would; that she was supposed to care, to grieve, to _feel_.

She'd rather not know what that said about her mental state and emotional stability.

"Castiel…You knew Sam back when he had a soul."

The angel regarded her with a long, intense look from penetrating blue eyes.

"What was he like?"

"What kind of answer do you expect from me?"

"The true and honest one."

"I'm not the best judge of human characteristics."

"Try."

An uneasy expression crossed his face, but he did attempt it, anyways: "Loving and caring, I suppose. Smart, honest and loyal, but quick-tempered. That's about as much as I can tell."

June turned her head away. She knew it. Nobody who had as great a brother as Dean would grow up uncaring.

"June." Castiel said insistently, as if he knew the directions her thoughts were taking.

"Yeah. Thanks." She appeased.

#

"Let me guess: He wasn't quite as talkative as you'd have liked," June welcomed Dean and Sam when they returned from questioning Samuel for Crowley's whereabouts.

She laid on the dingy couch, flipping through a magazine, legs crossed and basically looking as if she weren't in some rundown hut in the middle of nowhere but rather a photo shoot for the Vogue.

'Must be the innate arrogance of being born rich,' Sam thought, but corrected himself when June rose with an elegance that was all her, not money-made. Her hips swayed as she stepped towards them; she held her tall, curvy body proud as usual and radiated that certain air of 'I look all sweet and innocent but I'll rip you apart the second you turn your back on me'.

God, how he wanted that luscious body naked under his.

"So what now?"

"I take it you couldn't come up with anything," Dean remarked.

"Sorry," June shrugged, implying she wasn't that sorry. "I'm not a bloodhound; I can't track things down on command."

"Looks like we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way then," Sam turned on his laptop and Dean sat down beside him with a sigh as he pulled stacks of papers towards himself.

"Meaning?"

"Looking for signs."

"You really think the King of Hell's going to leave behind neon signs pointing his direction?"

Sam barely looked up from the screen. "No, since I think that if he would, even _you_ would have caught on to him. And _that_ would have been embarrassing for Crowley."

"Sam, drop it." Dean sighed exasperatedly. After having all his pain about his mother's death stirred up again from the talk with Samuel, he really wasn't in the mood for June's and Sam's perverted need to lunge at each other.

June didn't consider a reply worth the hassle, so she simply sat back down on the couch and swung her leg over the other. Getting bored after ten minutes, she smiled a wicked smile to herself and thought: Might as well play dirty.

June exhaled audibly, as if unnerved, to make sure she got the attention she wanted. Feeling Sam's eyes briefly glance over her, she lifted a hand and unzipped her leather jacket; slowly.

She slid it off her shoulders equally slowly, and in doing so, leaned forwards, pushing her bust out.

Sam knew exactly what kind of game she was playing, and he had to hand it to her; she was playing well. Not too obvious, but obvious enough.

After letting two minutes pass, June rose, ambled over to the table the brothers were sitting at with swaying hips and bent down ever so slightly. Her cover was that she reached for some of the weather reports: "I'll take the Northern states, see if I can find anything."

Sam willed himself not to give in to her game, but caught himself looking at her generously presented cleavage anyhow. Her shirt was just loose enough as to disconnect with her body as she leaned over the table. If he wasn't all mistaken, he'd caught a glimpse of red lace.

June turned around to resume her position on the couch. 'Accidentally' a sheet of paper sailed to the floor, and she leisurely bent down to pick it up.

Damn; she really was good.

"Don't even think about it," Dean warned under his breath.

"About what?"

His older brother shot him a meaningful, daring look and Sam just shrugged in reply. He was sure June had played all cards and wasn't all too worried he might be tempted further.

That was before June opened her ponytail, letting her blonde curls topple in gold waves over her shoulders. It reminded Sam of the time he'd buried his hands in them, pinning her to the wall and feeling that lush lips on his.

As if she'd read his thoughts, June absent-mindedly ran her tongue over her lips as she scanned through the weather reports.

She hid the fact well that she processed none of the information they offered, as her attention was wholly focussed on provoking Sam without being too obvious about it.

Sam had meanwhile long-since abandoned his search for omens and used all willpower on averting his eyes of June's tempting body, but not as successfully as he'd have liked.

June brushed her hair back, as if annoyed by it. She never took her eyes of the papers in her hand, even though it took all her strength of will. Sam's eyes were on her, she could feel them burning sweetly hot on her skin.

Sam caught June's breath quickening despite her efforts to keep it under control, and smiled as he realized she was getting trapped in the ropes she'd spun herself.

Again, June stood up and walked over to them. She placed the reports back on the table.

"Found anything?" Sam's eyes glinted darkly at her.

"Did you?" She breathed and straightened back up.

The sound of the TV that Castiel had decided to switch on drowned June's next words from Dean's ears, so that only Sam could hear her throaty, apparently casually mentioned statement: "I'll think I'll take a little walk outside to cool off from this heat in here…"

To the sounds of the pizza man ringing the babysitter's door bell, June left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar; almost like an invitation.

One that Sam couldn't turn down.

June ambled into the next room, counting the minutes until Sam followed her. It ended up being only two.

"Don't think I don't know what you're aiming at."

June raised her eyebrows as she turned around to find Sam leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed before his impressively muscular chest. He looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"What would that be?" June asked innocently.

Sam just looked at her, with that hungry look of a tiger about to pounce on his prey.

June shrugged. "I just wasn't particularly keen on watching porn."

"Is that supposed to tell me that you'd rather participate than watch?"

"Wake up, sweetie, we ain't in your dreams here."

Sam could feel the heat radiate from June's body that was so alluringly close to his. There was that scent again; blueberry and vanilla. Sam briefly wondered what perfume June used.

"I figured as much," Sam replied, tugging a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. It sent waves of tingly lust through June's body, and she tortured herself in not giving in to a kiss.

"Because if we were, you wouldn't still be talking." With that, Sam swept her lips into a stormy, passionate and wild kiss.

June's body gave a relieved sigh; finally. She wasn't sure if she could have borne that tension and longing much longer. Immensely glad that she could have what she craved for without having to give in, June buried her hands into Sam's hair and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He brought his strong arms under her thighs to support her and slammed her back into the wall. Neither one of them had the patience for foreplay, so they didn't shilly-shally. They didn't even bother with kinky talk for once.

Sam pushed up June's shirt to feel her soft skin under his calloused hands before he hooked his thumbs into the loops of her jeans to tug them down impatiently.

Once her pants and thong had hit the floor, June set to unbuckle Sam's belt and push his jeans and boxers down in return.

June let out a barely suppressed moan when Sam rammed into her with un-withheld force. She was so lost in the pleasure of her body finally getting what it wanted – Sam deep inside her – that she didn't even feel the pain of her back hitting the wall repeatedly, and neither did she care about Castiel and Dean being in the next room, quite possibly knowing what was going on next-doors.

Sam ran a hand over June's naked thigh and pushed her hard against the wall with his next thrust. He was rather surprised that she let him have his way without taunting him first; he was certain, however, that he wouldn't be allowed to pass on it completely.

Even if, though; it would be worth it. Having June throw her head back from the pleasure he gave her, exposing her delicate neck to him to bite, kiss, whatever he pleased…

June let out a little cry when she felt her orgasm hit her. "God, Sam… ugh…"

Sam would have loved going slower just to prolong her sweet torture of nearing the edge but not crossing, but felt his own orgasm approach; so he thrust into her even harder and faster.

"Sam!" June bit back her loud moans as well as she could, not knowing she wouldn't be heard anyhow since similar sounds came from the TV in the next room.

Sam felt her claw her nails into his back just as she tightened around him. He moaned against her neck as he came and bit down on the soft flesh to keep from shouting out his release.

June struggled to get her breath back. "Wow."

"Is that appreciation I hear in your voice?"

"More like satisfaction."

"Yeah, I could tell. You made that much clear, June." Sam smirked.

"Oh, not only that, Sam," She smiled sweetly as she wiggled into her jeans again.

She answered his questioning look smugly with: "Now we're even. Nothing you can hold over me anymore. You want me just as much as I you, no denying it any longer."

Watching June smoothen her hair, Sam wondered what profits this realization might gain him. Maybe June wouldn't try so hard resisting him anymore… should that be the case, giving in to her sneaky game surely had been worth it.

"June."

"Yeah."

"You still haven't shown me your tattoo."

She grinned up lewdly at him and tapped her fingers on his chest. "You just had your chance, hot shot, you didn't find it."

Sam just smiled in return and let her dwell in alleged victory before he whirled her around and pushed her shirt up. Surely enough, there it was; a tattoo, half the size of a palm, on her very low back, just over the waistband of her jeans.

It was an elegant, intricate anti-possession sigil that suited June more than well; complicated but effective.

"Cheater," June hissed.

"Like will to like."

June struggled free from his grip, shot him a last glare before marching out of the room.

She was glad her romantic streak was long since dead, otherwise she might have cried from the animalistic dinginess of having been taken up against the wall in a rundown, dirty house, with an angel and Dean sitting next-doors and discussing when to watch porn and how you don't talk about it.

#

"This is what you boys do, sitting around watching pornos with angels?" Samuel greeted Dean when he stepped inside.

"We're not supposed to talk about it," Castiel remarked.

Dean rolled his eyes and switched off the TV.

"Where's your brother?" His grandfather looked around for Sam.

"Probably banging his girlfriend." Dean ran a hand over his tired eyes. He'd given up on intervening June's and Sam's messed up relationship. Hell, he'd given up pretending there was even a tiny bit of his Sammy in that guy next-door. Even if he'd still had that hope, it would have been crushed now; not in his wildest phase would the real Sam have banged a girl when he could be walked in on.

"'scuse me?"

"Never mind. What're you doing here, Samuel?"

The elder man pondered for a moment, then quietly said: "It's what Mary would have wanted."

Of course, in his opinion, Mary would have never wanted her sons to become hunters, much less for one of them to lose his soul in hell; but the dices had fallen this way and he'd have to make the best of it. For his daughter.

"I don't exactly know where Crowley is, but the creatures we bring him all somehow end up in that area," He pointed to the red circle on the map. "Good luck."

With that, he was gone again, and Sam appeared in his stead, June closely behind him. Her flushed cheeks confirmed Dean's suspicions, but he was surprised to see it didn't bother him – not anymore.

It only fuelled the urgency he felt to get Sam's soul back.

**###**

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	13. Poisoned Blood

Half an hour later, the Winchesters and Castiel met Meg and her posse.

"Back to blonde, I see, Sammy?" Meg taunted when June approached the group outside. "Been a while since you had one of those."

"Back to demons, I see. Been a while since you had one of those." June remarked coolly and smoothly, regarding Meg with a frown. "But as everyone knows, blondes have more fun, so no wonder you dumped her."

Meg's eyes turned black as she glared at June, who stared back utterly unimpressed. "You little bitch. I'll rip your heart out."

"You and what army?" June smiled.

"Girls, please. Save the bitch fight for later." Sam interrupted levelly.

"I don't need you to make my schedule, Sam. I insult demons when I feel like it."

Meg laughed hollowly. "You found yourself a sassy one, Sammy, congratulations. Finally manning up?"

"Alright, could we get back to business?" Dean snapped, exasperated.

June and Meg glared at each other, but figured the sooner they got done here with co-operating, the sooner they could lunge at each other's throats.

#

"You wait here," Dean ordered.

June wondered whether to argue or not; on the one hand, she was sick of being left behind like a little girl, but on the other hand, she wasn't all too keen on barging into a hot spot of monsters. Who knew what they might trigger her to feel; for all she knew, she might as well die from the sheer pain that amount of creatures could bring her.

"Alright," She said quietly, surprising Dean in her honesty.

"If we're not back by tomorrow night, we probably didn't make it. Alternatively, we're trapped in there; either way, you get out of here."

June frowned. "Just like that?"

"You drive to Bobby's, tell him what happened, he'll know what to do. Address is in the journal in the trunk."

Dean wanted to give June a message for Lisa, but he didn't know what he could possibly tell her.

"Okay." June simply nodded. Not like she could have done much more. So she stayed behind and watched them approach the abandoned factory property.

Part of her was tempted to steal a last kiss from Sam; but that would have been touching romance and sentimentality too close for her comfort, so she didn't.

'Great, 24 hours to kill,' June blew out air.

What she wouldn't give for a shopping mall nearby.

#

"Does this all seem a little too easy for you?"

"Way too easy."

Uneasily and always on their guard, they made their way through the hallway.

"You know, I've just been thinking it might actually have been helpful having June along," Sam noted quietly.

"Helpful for _what_?"

"Think about it, Dean, with her, I don't think anything could sneak up on us…"

A growling interrupted them.

"For example, those hellhounds."

#

June glanced at her watch. Two hours gone.

"Screw this," She hopped of her Impala's hood and marched towards the building. Patience had never been her best asset, neither had obedience.

She'd gotten about a hundred meters to the side door when an overwhelming force rolled over her. June stopped dead in her tracks; she couldn't even form a clear thought to make another step.

Breathing in and out, the raging storm inside of her calmed down and allowed her to make out the source of it: Supernatural signatures, dozens of them, all hitting her at once.

A djin… no, two. Demons, lots of them. Shapeshifters. And tainted humans; June supposed they were Croatoan-infected.

"Alright. Alright. Breathe," June told herself. She needed to block those presences out if she wanted to get in that building. It would mean she'd have to find a way to ignore the cold shivers running down her spine, the lead-like feeling in her legs, the cringing of her solar plexus and the hammering headache, to name just the main woes.

"Man, this radar thing is a bitch," She hissed.

After a long search within herself, June found her centre and realized she could keep those sensations at bay. She could control them if she only set her mind to it.

"Well, that sure is a plus."

June kicked open the creaky door.

#

"How are we going to get out of this one?"

"I've got no idea." Sam admitted as he tried not to inspect his surroundings all too closely. Being locked up definitely put a damper to their mission, since it rather limited their freedom of movement, not to mention they had lost their element of surprise.

Their situation didn't exactly improve when Dean was led away by demons to God knows where.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, but got no reply.

'Awesome,' He groaned to himself and searched the room for anything useful. Since he found absolutely nothing, all he had left was using his own blood to draw a devil's trap.

It was one of the times he was actually glad to be that all, otherwise reaching the ceiling might have proven a little difficult.

Once he had completed the sigil, all he could do was wait.

#

June felt two Croatoans nearby, and she had extended her horizon, New Age as it may sound, in so far as that she could also sense the gap between them; a human presence.

'That ought to narrow it down.'

Dull sounds reached her through the cement walls, and she figured a fist-fight to be the source. Quickening her pace, June rather sensed than saw her way to the origin of the brawl.

Her stomach turned from the short pang of fear, but she calmed down fast enough to send the Croatoan that lunged himself at her down to the ground with a powerful punch.

Before he could get back on his feet, June stepped over him and twisted his head until his neck broke.

She could hear her heart hammer fast against her ribs, and she didn't particularly want to think about the ruthlessness she'd just shown. She'd just talk it up to survival.

Dean finished off the other one and got to his feet, first looking at the dead Croatoan to her feet, then at June. "Whoa."

"You're telling me." June's breath calmed down again. She felt her body growing weaker from all the impressions she had to keep at bay; her concentration having been temporarily distracted had caused her to slip some of the control she had, and now she struggled getting it back.

"What are you even doing here? I told you not to come inside!" Despite Dean making it sound like annoyance, it was actually worry; not that June was top on his list of who to save, but he couldn't not care about her, either.

"You're welcome," June just said.

Dean huffed and dropped the topic. "Alright, we gotta find Sam."

Sam saved them the search by showing up just then. "June?"

"To the rescue," She smiled, which Sam countered with eye-rolling.

"How'd you get out?"

Sam shrugged, and Dean knew he would never get the truth. Either way, they had bigger issues now. "We need to find the knife."

"Fifth room to the left, down that corridor."

Sam and Dean looked at June. "What?" She demanded. "That's where Meg is, together with some other demon, and I take it that if anywhere, the knife's with them."

"Your radar is spinning out of control."

"No kidding. Sadly, I've got no clue why it works the way it does, so let's just save that talk for some other time."

"For once, I agree with you," Sam said, "So let's go."

They marched down the corridor, always looking out for demons or Croatoans, but nobody stopped them. Sam and Dean were so occupied with watching every corner and listening to the slightest sound that they didn't notice June disappearing.

They only noticed it when they stopped at the fifth door to the left. "Where's June?"

Sam looked behind him, surprised to see her gone. "I don't know. Wasn't she right behind us?"

"Only for so long, apparently. Great. Where could she have gone?"

Sam sighed. "No idea. Anyway, I'll go look for her, you go get the knife."

"Sam, wait. Sam!"

"What?" The younger brother turned around impatiently.

"You're just going to take off alone? We don't have the knife, Sam! Just wait until we've got it back, then we can go look for June."

Sam just shook his head and disappeared down another corridor.

"Damn it," Dean shook his head. He risked a glance into the room, just long enough to see Meg being tortured by the demon who'd pretended to be Christian until a few weeks ago.

'Well, here goes nothing. I'm barging in to save a demon.'

#

June let herself fall behind, watching the Winchester brothers stalking down the hallway in front of her. When she was sure they wouldn't look back to check up on her, she disappeared in an obscure sideway corridor to follow the new signature she'd just caught whiff off.

'I feel like a damn dog,' She growled to herself. 'If I ever find out who did this to me, I'll personally rip his heart out.'

After ten minutes of feeling her way through the hovel demon headquarters, she finally found the creature sending out that special signature.

"June. How nice to see you again."

June stepped closer to the bars keeping the monster locked up. "Did you do this to me?"

"You'll need to be a little more specific."

"What I'm feeling, all those monsters."

"No. I am not responsible for you being a creature receptor."

"But you know who is."

The Alpha vampire smiled. "I do."

"I take it you're not just going to tell me like that."

"You're a very smart girl, June."

June trailed her fingers over the bars coated in dead man's blood. "What if I let you out in return for some answers?"

"You would let out a bloodthirsty monster just to satisfy your curiosity?" The vamp tutted. "Now that's not very noble."

"Who gives a rat's ass."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you're Sam Winchester's little whore, I suppose your morals have long gone down the drain."

June closed her fists around the bars and glared at the Alpha. "Yes, because you took my mother from me."

"June, June. Your mother can hardly be responsible for something you're doing long after she's dead. Like hooking up with the Winchesters. That aside, I did not take your mother from you. She made the choice to be changed."

"But you sure made me witness it."

"Should have stayed in bed that night, June."

She shook her head, swallowing down her acid anger. It wouldn't get her anything; what was past was past and couldn't be changed; it wouldn't be of any use wrangling with it. She had to look towards the future now.

"Whatever. Do we have a deal?"

The vampire regarded her with a long, curious look. "I might rip you apart the second you set me free."

"No, you won't. Because if that had been your intention, you'd have done it long ago."

"That was when your mother was alive."

"Did you love her?"

"No. Creatures like me are incapable of love."

June averted her eyes. 'Does that make me incapable of it, too?'

"Then why'd you turn her?"

"June. Stop poking at the past. You'll never understand why your mother did what she did, because she wasn't sane. She was blinded by the glamour of immortality and made some irrational choices… not to mention she was very obsessed with the supernatural." The way the vamp said that last part made June wonder if there was more to it…

"You still haven't answered my question. Do we have a deal, or not?"

"You're very persistent, June, I like that. You're not like other girls. I believe your destiny lies in this world… if you see and accept it."

'Thanks for just digging up more questions,' June groaned inwardly. Her determined, cool expression never wavered, though.

"So, yes, I take your offer. I'll even throw in a little bonus: I guarantee you that I won't kill you, nor the Winchesters."

June didn't question his motives for that 'bonus', she just nodded. "Alright. First, you'll answer my questions truthfully, then I'll let you out."

The vampire made a gesture with his hand for her to continue.

"Who made me this way?"

"Your mother."

June swallowed hard. "How?"

"A spell…" The Alpha replied languorously. "When she was pregnant with you, she poisoned her own blood to make her child… _special_. As I said before, she was obsessed with the other world; you're forced to bear that burden now, June."

June shook her head in disbelief. It couldn't be, could it? That her own mother had doomed her?

"Fiona wanted to belong to the supernatural, and before she met me who granted her that wish, she saw her only way to achieve that through witchcraft. She wanted you to grow up in this world, rise up high on the chain of command and pave the way for her to participate, too. With her gone, though, your talent didn't show until your maturity, your 18th birthday."

Bitterness rose in June's throat, along with hatred and despair. "How'd she expect that to work? I 'detector' my way up to the throne?"

The vampire shrugged carelessly. "I don't believe Fiona knew the outcome of her spellwork; there was no way she'd have known what talent you'd end up getting."

"She was playing Russian Roulette with her own child," June scoffed, more to herself than the vamp.

"Yes, she was. You got unlucky in your gift, as it is quite capable of killing you."

"How so?"

"Well, it wears your body out, surely you have noticed that."

Yes, that June had. "Is it reversible?"

"Technically, yes, it is. For you, though, it will prove rather difficult. Your mother cut all the cords for a way back for you."

"What do you mean?"

The Alpha sighed. "The only way to reverse a blood spell is by blood. So, you see, since Fiona poisoned her own family's blood, the only way to turn that back is through family's blood."

June closed her eyes briefly as realization swept over her. There was no blood of her family left that could reverse the spell.

Now her cousin's murder made sense: Fiona didn't kill him because they were estranged but rather because he could have helped June out of her curse.

Her brother, father and mother were dead, and she had never met her grandparents since they had died before her time.

There was absolutely nobody of her family left. She was the last of her bloodline, and hence she would never get out of this curse. She was utterly doomed.

"June. I like you. That's why I'll tell you that the path you're currently walking on is the best you could have chosen."

"And which path am I walking?"

"The soulless one. See, a soul is much more vulnerable than a body; in denying your soul, you're denying your vulnerability, and you'll live a lot longer and with a lot less pain."

That's why she could control her radar better now than she could before; she'd numbed her soul and was now more in control. There was no way she'd want her feelings back, it would get her killed.

Realizing that, June was hit by the realization that she truly had no intention of getting Sam's soul back. She didn't want to be alone, didn't want to be looked own upon by _everybody_.

"Anything else you'd like to know?"

June didn't reply, just looked at the Alpha vampire. "No."

The Alpha vampire didn't truly expect June to release him, and was hence fairly surprised when she set to unlocking his cage. She truly was a lot stronger than her mother.

"You should know, June, that your father's death truly was an accident. Tragically, plane crashes do happen… your father's just occurred at a very unseemly time."

June huffed. "That doesn't really comfort me, you know. It just means that fate hates me as much as my mother did."

The alpha said in a strange moment of niceness, conjured by his amazement of Fiona's daughter: "You're strong and tough, June, you'll find your way."

Then the vampire disappeared within the blink of an eye.

"Yeah, right," June said meekly. It was hard to believe that you'd find your way when you've never felt so lost ever in your life.

"June." Sam stepped to her side. He'd well seen her releasing the Alpha vampire, the one who had turned her mother and who she should therefore hate with a passion, but yet she'd opened the cage for him.

"Sam."

"What're you doing here?"

"Marvelling at the beautiful flowers." She snapped.

"Really? 'Cause it looked like you just released the Alpha vampire."

"Well, if you already knew what I was doing here, then why'd you ask?"

"Because I thought you'd might like the opportunity to tell me why you let a dangerous monster lose?"

"I don't need to justify myself." June said coldly. She marched past him and hoped he didn't see the brief moment in which her control slipped and she allowed her bitter resentment cross her face. Resentment, and sadness.

If Crowley got Sam's soul back, she'd be lost for good, that much she knew.


	14. Fallen Princess

**Thank you so much for all the lovely favorites and the reviews, it's the highlight of my writing day! :) **

**Am I the only one thinking January 28th will never come? It's freaking torture. **

**Either way, on with the story, shall we. **

**###**

When they made it back out, it was day, and June tried to remember when she'd last seen sunlight. It felt like ages, though it couldn't be more than two days or so.

Despite her rather hopeless situation, she felt happy; Crowley hadn't been able to get Sam's soul back, and by the look of it, nobody could achieve that. More yet, Crowley had done her the favour of sowing doubt and shaking the ground Sam's desire to have his soul back stood upon.

Listening, seemingly absent-mindedly, to the brothers arguing, June started to think of this as a good day.

"I don't want my soul back."

June did an inward jubilee dance, but kept her face straight and uninvolved. Sam's words slithered over her skin like a warming shower after a cold winter's day. She'd been worried that she might have to resort to manipulating to get Sam to stop adhering to his soul; now it seemed she might even keep playing her 'helpful' role and still keep Sam soulless.

Maybe fate wasn't all against her, after all.

"Sam, don't walk away. Sam!"

June flipped through her repertoire of expressions and picked the sympathetic one as she turned to Dean. "I'll go with him. I'll call and keep you posted."

Dean probably didn't believe her, but by the look on his face, he considered June to be just another thing gone wrong today; so he just nodded.

Dean didn't believe for a second she would really try to keep Sam on track; after all, she had killed a man today; infected or not he may have been, the fact remained that she'd killed without a blink. Yet again, one not-functioning soul on the ride might still be the tiniest bit better than no soul at all.

Even if Dean wanted to stop June from following Sam, he wouldn't have been able to. The girl did what she wanted anyhow, and with her gone, he could focus on finding a way to get his brother's soul back; so maybe he should even be glad to have her out of the way.

With a sigh, Dean got behind the wheel and back on soul-saving mission. He had long since stopped wondering why destiny and fate had chosen him as their personal toy to taunt and to break.

#

"Need a ride?" June grinned when she had caught up to Sam.

He turned around to her, mild surprise on his face. "What are you so happy about?"

"What can I say, I'm a morning person," June looked up to the rising sun smilingly. "Plus, we got out of there alive, I'd say that's worth a little enjoyment."

Sam huffed. "Yeah, right. I know you, June, and you're not that easily amused. If you're happy, it runs deeper than birds singing in trees."

June's inner demon wringed his hands happily, knowing Sam wouldn't change anytime soon because his soul would remain gone. "Sharp deduction, Sherlock. What do you say we get going?"

"You still didn't tell me what made you so happy."

"Sam, really. I thought you said you know me; but if you truly did, then you'd know I won't tell you simply because you ask me repeatedly."

Sam couldn't quite suppress a grin as he got in beside June into her Impala.

"So, where are we headed?" June pulled onto the interstate.

"Who said anything about 'we', princess?"

"Well, you are sitting in _my_ car. And did you really think I'd just take off and leave you alone?"

"You're a pain in the ass, June."

"Takes one to know one, Mr Soulless. You know, maybe the whole point of my existence is making your life miserable."

"Mission accomplished, so what are you still doing here?"

"So far, I've been bacheloring in annoying you, now I'm majoring." June smiled sweetly.

"Oh, sweetheart, you've long since excelled in it, no need for further improving."

"Are we still talking about the bickering or have we crossed other territory already?" June arched her eyebrow lewdly.

Sam started enjoying the thought of travelling with June; to be honest, he'd never been disinclined to it in the first place. It surely wouldn't get boring, and he had a feeling June wouldn't put all too much effort in resisting him any longer.

"I heard of an incubus case in Michigan. Guess we head there."

"_Michigan_? What the hell would anybody, monster or not, want in Michigan?"

"Got a problem with colder realms, spoilt Floridian princess?"

"That's what _you_ said; I never mentioned temperature to be an issue. Though it makes sense you'd inevitably think of that, since you're used to being in _hellishly_ hot realms, no pun intended."

"Don't flatter yourself, June. You're hot, but not hellishly hot."

June shot him an angry glare, but inside, she didn't feel angry, she felt elated from the high from having days, weeks and maybe months of this jabbing in front of her. Hell, maybe years.

#

Luna Jennings gazed at her sparkling engagement ring, a sight that could still send her blood welling despite the engagement having been over a year ago. The mere thought of her fiancée Jason made her all jittery and warm inside.

She tore her eyes away from her ring and got back to work. Her nails clipped on the keyboard of the old computer as she did the checks and balances for this month. The motel was running well, but had seen better times.

Either way, she loved her work; she was around people, and could use her organisational skills here and there. There were better paid jobs, but she loved this one.

The next time Luna glanced at the clock, it was two in the morning.

'Time really flies.' Just when she was about to check the reservations for the next week, the bell rang, announcing guests.

Luna looked up to see a smoking hot man walk inside; she felt her heart beat faster against her ribs. He was frighteningly good looking, but that wasn't the only thing scary about him; he had a smothering aura of danger around him.

Luna couldn't deny that she felt attracted to him, but she could neither deny that she was scared, too, and was therefore rather glad to see his girlfriend was with him. She entered two steps behind him; by the look of it, she was at least six years younger than him, probably more.

She was pretty, it occurred to Luna in a pang of envy. But she, too, radiated that dangerous aura, though not quite as heavily as the man with her.

He came to stand before the counter now, and Luna felt further intimidated by him when she realized how tall he was. His girlfriend, or wife, came to stand beside him, and she was tall, too.

Luna wondered what it was with those two; she'd seen drunkards, bullies, criminals and all sorts of folks check in here, but she'd never felt so jittery with fright. Later in her life, she would turn to a psychic who would then tell her that she had psychic vibes and could sense human's essences; other than that, Luna's life would turn out to be a normal one, and she would never wonder about these two people coming in that night again.

Now, Luna shook her head as she stood up and found her voice again: "Good evening, what can I do for you?"

"You got a double room?"

Luna checked on the computer. "Yes, I've got one with two singles and one with a king-sized…"

"We'll take the king-size," The man smiled, but his hazel eyes expressed an ulterior motive that set Luna's skin crawling.

"Oh, do we?" His girlfriend turned to him. "Well, if you feel like taking the couch, then I guess we will take the king-size." She turned her ice-blue eyes on Luna with a smile, handing her the credit card.

Luna's eyes grew wide at the black American Express; she had never seen a black one, ever. That girl had money, but wherefrom? She was way too young to have made her fortune already, and her boyfriend surely didn't look that old or rich, either, if their torn and dusty clothing was any indication.

Wordlessly, Luna pulled the card through the reader and handed it back to the woman. "You'll be staying in room number 6, it's down that way," Luna pointed to her left, "I wish you both a pleasant stay."

"Oh, we'll have pleasure alright," The man said so quietly that Luna thought she must have imagined it, thought the hungry look he threw at his girlfriend seemed real enough.

The second they had both disappeared, Luna reached for the phone to call her fiancée and assure herself that not every couple was in such a devouring, dark relationship.

#

"Well, Sam, I daresay your incapability of sleeping will come in handy, seeing as you won't have any bed to sleep in anyways," June smiled, tossed her bag into the corner and threw herself onto the king-sized, closed her eyes and crossed her arms behind her head.

"Who said anything about _sleeping_ on that bed?" Sam sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, running a hand up her waist and brushing his lips over jaw.

June smiled, not opening her eyes, and revelled in Sam's touch. His lips trailed down to her breasts, and she felt her blouse get ripped open. She'd done without a top underneath it today, admittedly not without ulterior motive, so Sam wouldn't have to dispose of any more clothes before he could slip his hand into her bra and twitch her nipples.

June moaned at the electric bolts chasing through her body, tilted her head back and weaved her fingers through Sam's hair, bringing his head up to hers so that she could lock her lips with his hotly.

Sam climbed on top of her, burying her body underneath his. June loved to have him hovering over her, loved how his chest weighed on hers and how the muscles in his arms rippled as he supported himself over her.

Sam felt June smile into his lips, and broke the kiss to look at her. Lately, June had been almost a little too willing, a little too happy and permitting.

Not that he'd complain.

Every time June was all hot for him was one less time he'd have to go through the hassle of picking up an attractive girl at the bar. Apart from that, June really was the girl he enjoyed most being and sleeping with.

"Don't tell me we're going to have a cheesy moment now," June commented Sam's staring into her eyes. "Because I am so not in the mood for that."

"What are you in the mood for then?"

June smiled wickedly, trailed her fingertips over his cheek, his jaw and then his brow, almost lovingly. "Sleeping, I think. It's been such a long day."

"Should have thought of that before, June," Sam unhooked her bra and slipped the blouse off her shoulders.

"Before what?" She breathed. Her hands wandered down Sam's chest to the buckle of his belt and the bulge underneath it. "Before getting you all hard for me?"

She took her hands back up, slowly undoing the first button of his shirt. "Guess you better go find a prostitute, or alternatively some girl naïve enough to fall for your good looks."

"Now which category would you rather find yourself in?" Sam ran his thumb over her nipple.

"Who said I'll be in either?" June grinned. "Those two groups are your options for tonight, and as I'm in neither, guess where that leaves me? Exactly. In the 'Not sleeping with you' group."

"Cute," Sam remarked, unimpressed, as he opened the button on June's jeans. "How you always believe you really have a chance of saying no when you're already hot and wet for me."

"I'm merely a compassionate and pitying person who wouldn't want to leave you with a hard-on. Only reason I'm doing this."

"Try saying that again, maybe with a little bit more conviction and credibility, and I might believe you one day."

June had meanwhile discarded Sam of his shirt, and now caressed his bare chest all over. "Don't tempt me to pull through with it just to get one over you."

"As if you could," Sam growled, tore June's jeans and thong down her legs, "You're just getting your kicks out of pretending you actually had the slightest chance of resisting me."

"You sure have some ego problems," June impatiently opened his belt.

"You sure have issues," Sam growled, bent her knee and pushed her leg up against her torso. He left a trail of little bite marks on the inside of her thigh.

"You know, I'm not sure how much attention you've paid during the 'flowers and bees' lessons, but this isn't going to work with your jeans still on," June complained.

"You sure were sick the day they taught patience."

"I believe, so were you," June snuck a hand down his pants, stroked his shaft teasingly slowly and revelled in his moaning grunt as a reaction. "I wanna be on top this time," She breathed.

Sam briefly considered denying her just out of principle, but then he thought he might as well let himself be surprised by June's unravelling talents. The ex-virgin surely learned quick, Sam mused smugly.

June was rather surprised that Sam succumbed and in rolling off of her, grabbed her hips to flip her on top of him. "That was a quick defeat," She arched an eyebrow.

"Let's see if it was worth it."

"When wasn't it ever?" June leaned forward, nibbled at his bottom lip and while her hands rid Sam of his remaining clothes, her mouth travelled from his jaw down to his chest, then further down to his six-pack and even further down to his groin.

Sam arched an eyebrow appreciatively; then he wondered: Would she…?

Before he could finish phrasing that question, he already felt June's lips close around his rock-hard length.

Yes, she would.

Teasingly, almost torturously, her tongue traced patterns around him as she took him into her mouth.

"God, June…"

June grazed her lips over his shaft and straightened up a little to climb on top of him. "Is that to say that the quick defeat _is_ worth it?"

"Geez, woman, stop talking."

"I'll take that as a yes," June smiled, running her hands over his chest and leaning forwards in doing so and hence giving Sam a tempting view of her breasts.

"One more word, June, and you're down under again."

"Wasn't I just there?" June straddled him, provocatively waggling her hot, damp middle against his erection.

Sam had it. He wasn't a patient person by nature, and as much as he liked their games, he needed to be inside of June _now_.

A gasp of surprise escaped her throat when Sam grabbed her shoulders, flipped her on her back and ferociously pushed her legs apart to plunge into her before she could even open her mouth to complain that she was supposed to be on top.

Maybe she didn't even want to complain; because, though she'd never admit it, she liked being the subordinate in their sex chain of command. It allowed her to think she couldn't change anything, that it was a natural order and that it wasn't in her power to walk away from this emotionally destructive 'relationship'.

June wouldn't give in without a fight, though; she wrapped her right leg around Sam's waist for leverage and tried to roll him over so that she'd be on top again. Of course, trying to move that mountain of muscle was about as useful as trying to fit her size 8 ass into a size 4 dress.

'Even the better,' June thought when she realized she might as well enjoy her bottom position, and dug her fingers into Sam's lower back.

Her muscles relaxed and she finally adjusted to having his whole length inside of her, and the same time that happened, she felt pleasure burn through her starting at her middle and making its way through the rest of her body.

Sam's body gave a relieved sigh when he finally thrust into June's tempting body; he regarded her attempts to get back on top with a smirk and just pounded into her harder.

"Yes, oh God, damn it… Sam… fuck, that spot, right there…ugh…"

"You don't happen to mean that," Sam hit said spot especially hard, "spot?"

"Fuck, yes." June arched her back, to take him deeper, and it didn't take much longer for her to feel her orgasm approach like an avalanche.

Sam had come to see the signs of June coming even before she tightened around him, and he savoured every moment of it, seeing her trapped in that state of release being close but not granted yet.

One of those signs being her tightening her hold on him, so when he felt her nails digging deeper into his back, he slowed his pace ever so slightly.

"Damn it, Sam!"

"What?"

"You know damn well what!" June cried between frustration and anger. She hated how much power Sam held over her and how her own body betrayed her repeatedly.

"Say it, princess."

"You want me to beg, is that it?" June hissed.

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Fuck. Damnit." June bit her tongue, but she knew she'd eventually give in. Torturously slowly, Sam continued fucking her, but she needed him a lot deeper and harder. "_Please, Sam_. Fuck me…hard and fast. Please."

And he readily did.

June moaned and cried as her orgasm racked her body. She bucked her hips against Sam, and as her walls contracted around him in sweet, quick waves, he came inside of her just seconds after she'd screamed out her release.

Sam kissed her neck almost tenderly before rolling off of her. June stared up at the paint peeling off the ceiling, catching her breath again, before sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She never stayed in bed after they'd slept with each other, because she thought that was thing only couples did; it was the same reason why she never showered with Sam, either. Some things, in her mind, were reserved for lovers.

And she was okay with that; she'd accepted there were some things she'd never have. Such as waking up beside Sam in the mornings; because he didn't sleep for one, and because she wouldn't fall asleep in his arms, for another. That would have taken it too far.

No, she was content with the way they were. Maybe even happy; she would forever be allowed to be her soul-damaged self around soulless Sam. It's what she wanted.

"Hey, June."

"Yup," She rummaged through her duffel bag in search of a bra that half-way matched her panties.

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower and a towel wrapped around his waist.

'Damn, that man's a freaking gift to womanhood,' June caught herself thinking appreciatively as she fished a lace-trimmed bra out of the bag and put it on.

"I've been thinking…"

"What, you want to scare me now?"

Sam's eyebrows lifted briefly. "Hilarious. No, I mean, I've been thinking about that blood spell your mother performed."

June looked up, her interest peeked. She had told Sam about her deal with the Alpha two days after they'd started hunting together. June didn't feel the need to keep secrets from Sam, because she knew he wouldn't judge her – due to a lack of measure instruments of moral and ethical correctness.

"The Alpha said that family blood is the only thing capable of reversing the spell, right?"

"Yeah," June eyed him suspiciously. She didn't like being completely clueless about the direction a conversation was taking. "But we already sorted out that I don't have any family left, no blood relatives, anyways."

"No," Sam shrugged, "But you could make one."

The cogwheels in June's brain came to a screeching halt, frozen in shock of what Sam was indicating. Luckily, they slowly got back to work again. "I am _so_ not letting you knock me up, not even to save myself."

Sam leaned against the doorframe and let his eyes wander over June, smirking. "I never said _I _would, princess. Though it does make me wonder that I'm the first one you think of when it comes to knocking you up."

June crossed her arms in front of her chest and glowered at him. "No offence, sweetheart, but last thing I want is bringing a mini-you into the world."

"Believe me, June, last thing _I _want is share a biological connection to you."

"Or so you say. I mean, you did just propose impregnating me."

"That's what _you_ made of it. I never said I'd be the one doing it. Besides, I thought you didn't consider me father material, anyways."

"Damn straight. You're not even boyfriend material."

Sam huffed. "If I'm not your boyfriend, we're not a couple, and if we're not a couple, then what are we?"

"Fuck buddies," June stated matter-of-factly. "Or more flowerily expressed: two people in an emotionally uncommitted, sexual relationship with no romantic feelings involved whatsoever."

"Where has the romantic princess in her tower waiting for her prince gone?"

"She tripped over her mother's dead body, fell out the window and broke her neck." June smiled humourlessly at him, adding in thought: 'And there was no prince to save her.'

"Now, move, I've got to go to the bathroom."

After she'd locked the door behind her, June dug through her toiletry bag until she found the pills. A quick glance assured her that she had indeed taken the daily contraception pill.

'Phew.' She tossed them back into the bag with a relieved sigh. Not that she'd truly thought Sam had any intention of making them parents, but she'd just felt the need to check.

Laying in bed half an hour later, June mulled over Sam's idea in her mind. Having a child in order to reverse the spell.

June shook her head and turned over to the other side. No, no way. Not only was a child at 18 out of question, but also did she abhor the idea of creating a life just to save hers.

She might deny her soul, but she still had that much of sense left.

Besides, this life allowed her spending it at the side of someone who understood her and didn't judge her. June wouldn't want to give that up.

Her decision made, June finally fell asleep to the sound of Sam's fingers flying over the laptop's keyboard researching their case. Luckily, she'd drifted off to sleep before regret making its way to her heart; regret that she would never get to wake up beside him and would never get to fall asleep in his arms.


	15. Patience And Prejudice

**Thank you all so much for your great support, I am so glad you're liking this story! :) **

**Little warning for the next chapter after this one: I went _a little _overboard on good old Shakespeare. That guy had scarily much to say that sometimes fits a little too well to leave out. **

**Anyhow, happy reading. :)**

**###**

"You seem oddly okay with Sam being gone God knows where," Bobby noticed as he watched Dean pacing up and down the living room.

Those two boys would be the death of him, he thought not for the first time.

"I know where he is," Dean sighed, "But that won't help us much as long as we've got no clue how to get his soul back."

"How'd ya know where…?"

"Come on, Bobby, I wouldn't let Sam take off just like that with some chick without knowing how to get a hold of him if I need to. I put a tracking device in June's car. Two, actually, just to be sure."

"I take it you don't trust her, then."

"Of course not," Dean shot back as if Bobby had just suggested he'd paint the Impala pink. Though through it all, he wasn't sure he could hate June for taking soulless Sam's side, either – just a feeling he had.

"Either way, I think I've got an idea…"

#

"Sleep well?" Sam inquired when June stretched her body, rustling the sheets in doing so.

"Peachy," She groaned. "Dreams filled with monsters and my mother, no, really, just what I consider sweet dreams."

"Makes me kinda glad not being able to sleep," Sam remarked, and June rolled her eyes as she untangled her body from the sheets and got out of bed.

"Find anything on the case?" June rummaged through her piles of clothes and pulled out ripped jeans and a polka-dotted top.

"Yup. Looks like a siren."

"Awesome. So what now?" June yawned, sat back on the bed and pulled her boots on.

"Now we'll go ask around, starting with the guys who killed their wives, who will probably all confess to frequenting strip clubs. So tonight we'll hit said strip clubs and you'll use your radar to suss out the siren."

"Do I look like a tool to you?"

"You don't want me to answer that, princess." Sam shut down his laptop, got up, straightened his tie and checked his FBI badge.

June shrugged and followed him. She'd objected to posing as a government official since she didn't plan on getting any more involved in crimes than she probably already was. She wanted to keep a little backdoor open; a backdoor to a normal life, college… and maybe even a functioning soul.

It wasn't realistic, but rather sentimental.

Either way, twenty minutes later, June sat in the car waiting for Sam to finish his questioning. She turned on the radio and let her eyes wander over the streets. They were sparsely crowded, but busy enough to give her something to observe.

June's gaze stopped at a young couple walking down the street. They were holding hands, the woman rested her head against the man's shoulder and both looked happy. Though regret would have been too strong a word to use to describe what June felt, it came closest.

'I'll never have that… not with Sam, not with anyone,' June thought ruefully, 'Because to have that kind of intimacy, you have to be in love. I cut myself off from that, and I doubt Sam will be the one to show me.'

Just like they would never make love; their raw lust wasn't deserved being called that. They fucked, that was it.

June took a deep breath, sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. Whatever. You can't care about what you can't care about.

The passenger's door opened and the car tipped to the side as Sam shifted his weight onto the seat. "Like I said, they all visited strip clubs."

"Cookie for you, for your masterful seeing through of the shallow male mind." June replied acidly and swerved the car back onto the road.

"You sure are prejudiced."

"Nope. No prejudices, just judgements proven correct." June smiled sweetly.

"I daresay that if those guys' wives were anything like you, they wouldn't need to be infected by a siren to feel the desire to kill them."

"Let's just hope you're not stupid enough to let yourself get infected, because otherwise I might be forced to kill you. In self-defence, of course."

"You're welcome to try. Though you have nothing to worry about, really, seeing as even if the siren should infect me, I'd kill the woman most important to me. So you'd be out of the question."

"Sweetheart, I'm the _only_ woman in your life right now. So unless you've felt some deep connection to that motel receptionist, I'm pretty sure I'd be the one you'd come to kill."

Sam didn't reply for a moment, then he just huffed: "Fair enough."

"Did you just agree with me?"

"I guess I did, yeah."

"Don't. It's creepy."

Sam chuckled and shook his head; "Oh, June. You're seriously messed up, anyone ever tell you that?"

"You did, more than once, actually, and if you were in the least bit more receptive, you'd get that repeating it won't change anything about it. Besides, you can't honestly tell me you'd appreciate it if I'd turn into a docile romantic whiner."

'At least, _now_ you wouldn't… I don't know how it would be if you had your soul,' Uncomfortable foreboding prickled up June's neck.

These past days had been too quiet. Dean had never called, they hadn't run into other hunters or demons. Something couldn't be right, and June had the queasy feeling her 'happiness' would end up on the chopping block.

"I wouldn't, true. Hey, pull over at that copy store."

June hit the breaks and manoeuvred her Impala into the empty parking space. "Why?"

"You'll need a fake ID for tonight, just in case they're not as willing to overlook your age as I am."

June turned her palms up in a demanding gesture for information.

"Strip clubs are 21 up only. And though I'm sure you'd be able to sweet-talk your way in by a low neckline, I'd rather not take the risk of the siren slipping through our hands because you're missing a couple of years."

"I'm getting a fake ID to get into a damn _strip club_, unbelievable," June rolled her eyes and followed Sam inside, sick of waiting in the car. "If it'd at least be for something fun and not quite so dirty."

"As if you'd care," Sam's expression was unmoved as he set to work on various machines.

"My morals, unlike yours, are still intact, since my soul is merely dormant, not missing," June leaned against a copier and looked up at the ceiling, impatiently rocking her body back and forth.

"Too bad you don't show it."

"Not like you'd notice even if I did."

"Probably not, no."

"Nice we sussed that out. You done?"

"Patience, June."

"Ran out on it just yesterday."

"Better restock."

June stuck her tongue out at his back and was glad he didn't see her display of immaturity. She wondered when she'd lost touch to her lively spirit; looking back, she wasn't even sure when she'd had such a thing as a carefree phase in her life. Normally, your childhood was that carefree phase, but it hadn't been for her… now it looked as if she'd die without ever experiencing it.

Oh, well. What she had now was just fine.

After ten more minutes, Sam handed her the outcome of life-long fraud skills.

June raised her eyebrows appreciatively. "Not bad, Winchester."

"Get moving, Hallberg."

They returned to the motel to get changed for their strip club spree.

"What are you even supposed to wear to those kind of places?" June asked as she peeled out of her top and jeans. She'd long since abandoned her abashment of being near-naked or even fully naked in front of Sam, since there was nothing he hadn't seen before.

"What you're wearing now's just fine," Sam gave her an appreciative once over, which earned him a punch to his arm.

"Oh, you mean as a visitor, not a stripper?"

June shot him a smothering glare. "Of course I didn't mean as a stripper!"

"Well, then I guess you should put on a little more fabric."

"Congratulations, you've just proved to be even more useless than I thought. Excelled my expectations." June grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom, figuring she'd get no sensible advice from Sam.

In the end, she'd decided for a denim mini skirt, red heels and a lace-trimmed black top under her leather jacket.

"I kind of preferred the other outfit."

"I'm sure you did," June growled and stepped out the door, Sam closely behind her, so close she could feel the fabric of his jeans briefly brush over her bare thigh. "What's our cover, by the way?"

"We don't have one."

"Meaning we're just going to look like a couple out to get their kicks from strip bars to jump-start their non-existent sex life. Now _that_ seriously will be a dark blotch on my CV."

"I thought we weren't a couple."

"And we're not, but it's what everyone else will think."

"Since when do you give a crap about what others think?"

"Since it could lead to me being accounted the irrationality and absolute incredulity of being stupid enough to actually attempt leading a relationship with _you_."

"You're never shy of an ego-crushing comment, are you?"

"Please. As if anything could even scratch at _your_ ginormous ego. But I'm trying my best," June beamed.

Sam knew exactly why June was lashing out so volatile all the time; it allowed her to let her tortured soul rest and not evoke those demons of the past. He didn't mind, either, for it meant he wouldn't have to pick every word around June. He could just say what was on his mind without filtering it first.

Undoubtedly, it would eventually take its toll on her, since her soul was still inside of her and not completely absent like his.

Like so many other times, though, Sam couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'm driving."

"No, you're not," He always was surprised anew how her glacier blue eyes could glare so blazingly hot.

"Driving with heels is illegal," Sam just said, snagged the keys from June's hand and got in behind the wheel before she could lunge at him.

June rolled her eyes, but succumbed and got in beside him. Her consolation was that Sam really did look hot driving.

"How do you kill a siren, anyways?"

"You're asking that _now_?"

"Just curious. I mean, I do keep you along for a reason, that mostly being keeping my sweet ass out of the fire," June swung her legs out the car and slammed the door shut. It was cold out, and she shivered, and did her best to suppress that traitorous thought of how a man loving her would warm her now. "So really, I'm just asking out of curiosity than the intention of actually making use of the knowledge, as I'm counting on you to kill that thing."

"Sounds to me like you trust me," Sam grinned.

"Not really, no, but I do trust your deep-rooted instinct to kill every monster close."

"You have to stake the siren with a stake dipped in its own venom."

"Geez, couldn't they just be allergic to silver like everything else?" June rolled her eyes and marched over the pavement towards the neon signs of the strip club all men had visited.

"For the record, June, you're a terrible hunter."

"Hey, I track the thing, you kill it, end of story. I don't need to know the specifics for that. Kind of like the CEO of a company just affixes his signatures under contracts that his employees worked their asses off for."

"With the difference being that you're not head of these hunts, just clueless."

"Good luck spotting the siren without my help." June dared.

They stopped walking and glared at each other.

"Equal rights?"

"Equal rights," June agreed and they resumed their walking.

"This seems oddly comfortable to you," She remarked while they were waiting to get inside.

"Nice try, sweetheart, but no, this is not part of my weekly entertainment programme. Sorry to burst your bubble about the shallow minds of males."

"Oh, no need to be sorry, there's plenty of proof for that around even without you." June tried to ignore the crawling feeling on her skin that the lewd stares of the men around them gave her.

Sam turned his eyes on her. "You okay?"

"Uh, let's see, I'm getting checked out by pervy men old enough to be my father and I'm standing in line for a damn strip club, so no, I'm not okay." June shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"Hey, sweetheart, relax," Sam smiled at her, and there was only the tiniest of trace of joking in the way he looked at her, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Yeah, because you don't like sharing." June looked back at the fifty-something guy two steps behind her who looked as if he might start drooling any second. She'd never admit it, but she was glad to have Sam with her, and she was _damn_ glad that he had that certain physique nobody would dare mess with.

"Very true."

At the point they finally disappeared into the obscurity of the bar, June didn't care about Sam's motives anymore, she was just glad that he was there with her.

He pulled her into a faraway booth and sat down across from her. His eyes travelled over the crowd, but June noticed that there were some people not attracting his attention.

"You're not looking at them."

Sam turned back to her. "Who?"

"The strippers. Which makes you about the only guy in here not fixated on them."

"Oh, princess, I don't need them. I've got my entertainment sitting across from me."

June kicked his legs underneath the table, not quite as hard as she would have liked. "Just so we're clear: I might do some kinky stuff, but I'm not doing _it_ in some strip bar. So, these clothes here, they stay right on."

"For now, at least."

"Work first, Sam," June leaned across the table and kissed his lips lightly.

Sam was rather surprised by her unexpected sing of 'affection', or in their case, rather lust, but then he felt her brushing her lips over his cheek to his ear and she whispered: "Siren's two booths behind you, and has already infected her next victim, so you might want to bag him, too, for the venom it takes to kill her."

"You know, princess, you ain't half-bad at this."

"Mhm," June had meanwhile crawled over to him and nuzzled her face into his neck. "How long do you figure it takes for them to be done here?"

"That from the girl who just claimed never to do it in a strip bar."

"I never said I changed my mind about that… but I thought we'd look a little suspicious if we weren't at least making out."

Sam pulled her onto his lap and weaved his finger through her hair as he pulled her in for a passionate kiss. June straddled him, arching her body against his and never caring about neither the audience nor the fact her skirt skidded up so far it revealed her legs up to the point where it showed her underwear.

Kisses with Sam were always fierce, hot and intense, and she felt her cheeks getting warm from the heat of their make-out session. She was more than sorry to have to break it off after half an hour or so.

"They're leaving," She said breathlessly.

"What a pity," Sam ran his hand over her bare thigh one last time before they scrambled up and fought their way through the crowd. The cool night air that had before been so chilling now felt pleasant against the heat of June's skin.

She followed Sam to the Impala, where he rummaged through her trunk, got out the stake and then tossed her the keys. "Get back to the motel."

"How're you going to…"

"You probably never heard of it, princess, but people who don't grow up with chauffeurs are familiar with that thing called walking."

"Bite me." June ripped open the driver's door.

"I'll take you up on that later."

Though two hours later, one siren less, June could see on Sam's face when he returned that there were other things on his mind than screwing her.

"Dean called," Sam took off his jacket and tossed it on the chair.

A punch to June's gut. "Oh?"

"Said he found a fool-proof way to get my soul back."

'No, no, no, please, Sam, don't say you want it…'

"Aha?" June's usual articulacy had gone down the drain along with her content sense of having found her place for now.

"I promised him I'd listen to it." Sam shrugged as if it were no big thing, while June already thought of way she could coax Sam into not even wanting it back... she wasn't sure she'd succeed if it really came down to it. Not if Dean was her opponent in this.

As convenient a dormant soul could be, it voided her of the fierceness Dean had, too. June somehow knew that she stood no chance against Sam's loyal, ever-loving and determined brother.

So the only chance she still had was Sam saying no, or her world would go down in flames.


	16. Shakespearean Sonnet

**"Come, let's away to prison;**  
**We two alone will sing like birds I' th' cage"**

**- King Lear (V, iii, 6-8)**

* * *

June had never felt this caged before. It was like the ceiling was going to drop on her any second, and she could almost see the filthy carpet wearing down where her feet had been dragging over it in circles for the past hour.

What if Dean really had found a foolproof way to get Sam's soul back into his body without turning him into a drooling mess? Worse; what if Sam agreed?

June wondered if she could sabotage the transfer of his soul from hell to his body.

Not because she had a malicious nature, but rather because she was scared of being alone again, of losing the one person she could hold onto.

Any rational person with a soul would have told her that she was being unreasonable and should rather try to get her own soul working again instead of dooming another human to remain soulless.

But having a functioning soul… it would weaken her.

_A soul is much more vulnerable than a body; in denying your soul, you're denying your vulnerability, and you'll live a lot lo__nger and with a lot less pain._

The Alpha vampire's words rang in her mind every day, like a warning.

She couldn't risk losing that content state she'd built up with Sam.

Luckily, by some miracle, he seemed to be on her side. His face was grim and determined when he slammed the door behind him upon his return.

"So?"

"It's crazy, and I won't let him do it."

June smiled, trying her best to keep victory out of her expression, and brushed her fingertips over Sam's jaw. "Sounds like a good call."

Despite all Sam's improved brain waves, he never discovered the real reason behind June's support of his soulless self. He thought it to be convenience; her screwed up psyche and its need to be taunted, and that would work better without a soul involved.

However, he failed to see that really, it was fear and insecurity.

"So what now? I suppose Dean will pull through with it, with or without your consent."

"Damn right he will, but I am not going to let that torn up soul back in my body with some frail wall being the only thing standing between me and an asylum."

"Well roared, lion."

Sam lifted one corner of his mouth in a cynical smile, "The lady doth protest too much."

June's eyes widened in surprise.

"Should I be offended by your surprise at my knowledge of Shakespearean plays?"

"Well, no, it's just not what I expected. Much less did I really expect you to have a suitable one."

"Wow, you actually didn't choke on that confession."

"Be not afraid of greatness," June grinned.

Sam could probably have dug up another suitable quote, but decided sweeping June into a hungry kiss was much more fun.

"Shouldn't you worry about your spiritual non-salvation first, Macbeth?"

"How poor are they that have not patience, Lady Macbeth."

"Actually, I'd be Desdemona, seeing as that quote's from Othello."

"I know, but I figured the crazy, deluded, manic and psychopathic Lady Macbeth suits you better than sweet Desdemona."

"You sure know how to woo a woman," June chuckled and couldn't resist kissing him again. If she wasn't careful, she'd actually end up having very unhealthy feelings for Sam. "So let's go and make sure you're not ending up like Macbeth."

An hour later, June stood in yet another abandoned factory building – wondering how many of those were out there – and watched Sam complete the summoning ritual. Actually, she rather watched _him_; and couldn't hold back that victorious smile.

Unbid, however, she had to think of Helena's words in 'All's Well That Ends Well':

_"Oft expectation fails, and most oft there  
Where most it promises; and oft it hits  
Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits."_

Would it fail her?

"Sam Winchester."

June and Sam looked up simultaneously at the deep voice above them. Only, that it was _behind _them all of the sudden. "This had better be good."

June regarded the angel, wondering if he could really help them. He sent a prickling sense of hot honey flowing down her spine; it wasn't unpleasant, but far from pleasant, either.

"Well, here's one of the dumbest thing ever; summoning the angel who wants to kill you."

"Desperate times," Sam just said. "I need your help, Balthazar."

"Interesting, seeing that the last time you wanted to fry my wings extra-crispy."

"That was a misunderstanding."

"Some misunderstanding that was."

"I need your advice," Sam seemed unfazed by Balthazar's agitation. "Angel advice."

"Well, then go ask your boyfriend."

"Cass can't help me. I need to know if there's a spell, or a weapon, or anything that can keep a soul out forever."

June revelled in the sweet sound of those words.

"Naw, what's going on, Sam?"

"It's for me."

"Oh, your soul, it's not still down there?"

Sam just glared at him.

"It is. Well, then I can understand you don't want it back, seeing as Micky and Lucy are hate-banging it as we speak."

"So, can you help me?"

"Yes, but the question rather is, will I? By the way, would your girlfriend really be so happy with your lack of a soul?"

"Would I be here otherwise?" June arched an eyebrow.

"Aren't you two just a match made in hell." Balthazar gloated.

"Probably," June shrugged. "So, will you?"

"Maybe."

"Set your terms."

#

"Patricide? Seriously?" June shook her head as they drove back to Sioux Falls.

"Is it that absurd?"

"No, just sexist, as usual. I mean, why would patricide be more damaging for a soul's vessel than matricide?"

"You're not seriously going to discuss emancipation in the bible with me now, are you?"

"Just stating the obvious." June grumbled. "Either way, are you going to do it?"

"Do you have any doubts I am?"

"No, just making sure."

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're so intent on me keeping my soul out?"

"Do you really care?"

"No."

"See."

They drove on in silence for a few more minutes before Sam asked casually: "You gonna wait or come with me?"

"Depends. Do you want me with you?"

"If I said no, would that make you join me?"

"Probably, yes. Just so you know, in case you should say yes, I'll come with you, too."

"So if this is a lose-lose situation for me, then why'd you ask?"

"To give you the impression of actually having a choice."

"Very sweet of you." Sam remarked sarcastically, "But you wait in the car, because Bobby's bound to be suspicious if I take you along."

"Fine."

"What, no defiance, no snappy remark, just 'fine'?"

"Yeah." June replied curtly. She wasn't going to take chances of this possibly going wrong; not when it was about Sam's soul, or rather, lack thereof.

"You're scaring me."

"Bite me, Winchester."

"Will do, as soon as we're done with this."

June looked at him challengingly as she parked the car on the Singer Salvage Yard. Sam just cocked an eyebrow, leaned over and gave her a rough, deep kiss before he got out.

June contemplated how long she'd wait. After half an hour, she decided to go look, despite Sam's order for her to wait.

She found the house empty and furniture knocked over, but no sign of either Bobby or Sam, so she went back outside to see if they were maybe in one of the garages.

Sure enough, she heard Sam's voice, and another one. Before she could take one step inside, though, she was whirled around and faced a not so amused looking Dean.

"Dean…" She struggled against him, actually able to break free, but not for long. She was able to land a decent punch, but it was of no use.

"Sorry, June."

Then her world turned black.

#

When she awoke, her head hammered like a construction site, and little stars danced before her eyes.

"Here, take this, it'll make you feel better."

June sat up slowly, taking in her surroundings. She lay on a couch in a messy living room, and as her vision cleared, she found Dean sitting across from her, holding out a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water to her.

"Damn, Dean, that was quite a punch," June rubbed her throbbing head.

"Sorry, June, really. I don't hit girls, none that aren't possessed, anyways, but you call for exceptions."

"I figured," June popped two pills into her mouth and swirled them down with some water. "Guess I deserved it. Though I do wonder why you just didn't kill me then."

"Why would I kill you?"

"Well, if I were you, I would have," June finally dared to look at Dean, and something in the way he looked at peace told her that it was too late. Sam had his soul back. Yet, she refused to believe it until he actually told her so.

"Just because you're a heartless manipulative bitch doesn't mean I'll kill you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Seriously, though, June, you need help."

"No kidding. Know some good psychotherapists by any chance?"

Dean wasn't put off by her biting sarcasm, didn't even regard it with a response. "I suppose you've guessed that Sam has his soul back."

"Yeah," June tried hard not stumbling into that omnipresent black hole, but failed. "Guess I lost."

Silence eloped and engulfed them, and June just wanted the dark current within her to take her under. She was alone and lost.

"Why, June?"

"Why did I put all my efforts into keeping your brother from getting his soul back?"

Dean's eyes bored into hers intensely, and June suddenly felt stripped of all belligerence. "No point in lying; my soul's damaged, seriously damaged, and Sam was the only one not judging me for that. I could be who I was without having to think about that. I didn't need to feel. I knew what I had with him, and it was the only thing that was real. But… that guy you brought back? I don't know him, Dean."

"To avoid confusion, let's just stick to soulless Sam as Sam, and to soulful Sam as Sammy." Dean got up. "You say you don't know Sammy. But are you seriously going to tell me you knew Sam?"

June looked up at him in confusion. Without Dean speaking further, she already knew she'd be the subordinate in the following conversation, for maybe the first time in her life.

"What's his favourite colour?"

"I…"

"Favourite food? Worst fear?"

"Dean…"

"You don't know Sam because there's nothing _to_ know. He wasn't human, because he had no soul, damnit!"

"Don't you think I know that?" June cried desperately and jumped up.

"What?"

"I know that I'm screwed to hell for wanting to be with a soulless guy, believe me, I know, but there's nothing I can do about that, alright? Because I'm just. Not. Capable. Of caring! My soul's dead, Dean. You really think anyone with a soul would even last one hour with me?"

Dean looked at June, saw her control slipping and reveal some of the wounded young girl that lay beneath that cold, volatile and sarcastic surface. "It doesn't have to be like that, you know."

"Really?" June sounded bitter, but her voice turned defeated when she continued: "Look, Dean, I'm sorry for attempting to keep your brother from you. I had no right to, and I know that. It was selfish and wrong, I know that, too. It wasn't like I really stood a chance, and it isn't fair to Sam, either. Or, rather, Sammy. So… I'm sorry."

"June…"

She shook her head and dashed for the door. "You deserve having your brother, Dean, and I should have never stood in the way of it. Just, um, tell Sam I'm sorry, okay?"

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"I don't think he really wants to see me. In fact, I'm pretty sure that he's going to think what the hell his soulless self was thinking, screwing me. But, whatever, I don't belong here anymore."

"You could give it a try," Dean attempted, slightly put off by June's honest and merciless evaluation of herself. It didn't quite fit the picture he had painted of her over the past weeks.

"No, I couldn't." June shook her head. "Not anymore."

"Where are you going to go?"

"Somewhere. Doesn't really matter."

"Be careful, June."

June huffed. "Yeah. Maybe I will."

Numbly, June slipped behind the wheel of her car and raced down the dirt road until she was on the highway to somewhere.

She didn't need to know where she was going, because it didn't matter, as long as she'd get far, far away. Why had she seriously believed that she could maintain that strange state of contentment she'd been in with a soulless Sam?

Hadn't she seen what it was doing to her, how she'd ripped her soul further and further apart? Maybe she had; but she hadn't minded because it was the only thing she could have done.

Now that last refuge had gone, and she didn't know what to do. A small part of her wondered what Sam's soul was like; it made her almost long to turn back and find out. Almost.

'No, it's over,' June reprimanded herself. 'For good.'

The empty highway stretched before her, offering to take her far, far away, and she floored the gas pedal.

Another chapter of her life closed; only this time, there was no sequel in sight.

* * *

**"Journeys end in lovers meeting,**  
**Every wise man's son doth know."**

**- Twelfth Night (II, iii, 44-45)**


	17. Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

It took two days for Sam to wake up, and when he did, it was almost as if he'd never been gone. Dean and he fell right back into old patterns.

"Dean, God, I'm so sorry-"

"Sammy, stop it."

"But all those things I did – I almost killed Bobby!"

Dean shook his head. Only Sam would apologize for something he hadn't technically done.

"And all those things I said… Dean, I didn't mean any of it, I promise."

"Sammy, would you shut up for a minute?"

The puzzled look his younger brother shot him was the exact one that always reminded Dean of a puppy.

"Just stall the self-loathing for a little, alright? Long enough for me to tell you that none of this was your fault."

"But-"

"No but, Sam."

For a long minute, the brothers just looked at each other, then Sam's mouth lifted into a genuine Sammy smile. "Thank you, Dean." He didn't need to say more, his brother understood him without any further words. It had never taken much conversation for them to pass the most important messages between them: Such as 'I love you' and 'I owe you the biggest thank you ever for never giving up on me'.

"Damn, it's good to have you back." Dean pulled his little – figuratively speaking – brother into a rib-crushing hug. Finally, after over a year, he had his baby brother Sammy back.

Sam's embrace wasn't any looser than Dean's was, and they must have remained like that for minutes, though really, it could never be long enough for them.

"Alright, let's not have a chick flick moment; I've got a reputation at stake."

Sam chuckled and followed Dean upstairs, dragging his battered body up the stairs. A soul returning into a body surely took its toll on the latter.

He knew there was something he was missing; he remembered the past year, all of it, but still, there was something about _the way_ he remembered it that didn't feel right. Almost as if he hadn't really been there… because his soul hadn't been there with him. But where had it been then?

"Sammy." Dean warned as he caught the brooding expression on his brother's face.

"Mhm?"

"Don't scratch."

And Sam didn't. For now.

* * *

June stopped her car in front of the five-star hotel in San Francisco. She'd chosen it not so much because she wanted to flaunt her money everywhere, but rather because she couldn't bear the memories cheap motels inevitably brought up. She wanted to slip right back into the money-inflicted oblivion. It was easy relief.

She tossed her car keys to the valet and marched into the lobby, not caring how out of place she looked in her ripped clothing and her roguish appearance.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

"Sure hope so. I'd like to check into the most luxurious room you've got, and also order the full spa programme."

The receptionist gave her a sceptical once over, then asked in a blasé manner: "May I see your ID, please?"

"If it makes your day," June snapped and slid her real ID across the counter along with her credit card. The guy's eyes widened, then he added, much more kindly: "I'll order your luggage to be taken up for you, Miss Hallberg."

"Awesome. When's the next massage appointment available?"

* * *

"Hey, Dean…" Sam started as he sat together with him, beer in hand, while Bobby was on the phone with another hunter.

"Yeah."

"Where's June?"

Dean wasn't sure he liked the tenderness in Sam's voice as he said her name. Last thing his brother needed was a girl possibly hazardous to his frail state of stability. "Sam."

"What?"

"Let her be." Dean didn't mean it maliciously, but rather out of the deep-rooted instinct to keep his brother away from any possible harm. Truth be told, he did it for June, too; she hadn't made the impression of wanting to know Sam with a soul.

"I can't, Dean, not just like that."

"Why not?"

"I didn't exactly treat her the best. I've been one big ass jerk, actually."

"No newsflash there, jerk."

Sam couldn't prevent a one-sided grin slipping onto his face. Damn, he had missed his brother. "Bitch."

A comfortable silence enveloped them, but Dean could feel Sam wasn't done with the topic 'June' yet.

"Look, Sam. It wasn't you, and June knows that. Besides, she isn't the most empathetic, emotional person I've met, I doubt she even cares. To tell you the truth, I think she liked it."

"Yeah, guess she did," Sam stared into his beer bottle as if it could help him make a decision about how he felt about June. His memories of her were not big help since they delivered him exactly zero emotional material to work with.

Yes, she was seriously screwed up – but how could he blame her after all that had happened to her?

His newly regained conscience even nagged at him and told him that he may have helped her a little down soul-damaged road.

Said conscience wouldn't allow him to give up on her that easily.

"Dean… our job's helping people. _June_ needs help."

"No argument there, but I don't think we're qualified enough to have her admitted to a psychiatric ward."

"Dean," Sam reprimanded in a way so typical for him, it almost made Dean smile. "That girl's in pain, she just won't admit it."

"Yeah, but Sam, what do you expect to do about it?"

Silence.

"Don't tell me you actually fell for her."

"No, of course not, but it's just that… man, I can't just let her run off killing herself inside without trying to help her."

'Dear old Sammy,' Dean thought wistfully.

"I mean, I haven't exactly done anything to improve her situation…"

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you that it wasn't your fault?"

"Just let me finish, alright? I spent the past weeks with her, and soul or no soul, I care about her. Sure, she's messed up, but, Dean, who are we to blame her, really? After everything that happened to her?"

Dean gave a slow nod. "Fair enough."

"June doesn't have anyone, Dean, and right now, she's out there with monsters on her back and completely clueless as to how to ward them off." Sam felt for June; not only because she'd been cursed by other forces like he had been, but mostly because she didn't have the loving family that he had had to get him through that.

"She's got her gift."

"It's not a gift, it's a curse, and it'll kill her."

Dean looked at Sam questioningly, and Sam debated only for a second whether to tell him about the Alpha vampire's revelation of the truth behind June's radar for monsters.

Maybe he should have left out the part where June released the vamp, since he could read on Dean's face that it didn't do anything to promote June favourite of the month.

"She let out the freaking _Alpha_ vamp?"

"Dean. I let _Lucifer_ out. Just as a reminder."

Dean sighed inwardly, knowing Sam was right but not quite so willing to let his brother track June down to get her back on the rails. It wasn't so much that he wanted to abandon June, but rather was he worried she might lead Sam to scratch at those walls, or maybe send him down the dark road again… She _had_ made her point of view about Sam's lack of a soul rather clear, after all.

"So, you're going to help me find her or not?"

* * *

Lazily and with well-rehearsed, staged boredom visibly filling her every pore, June flipped through the magazines at the hairdressers. 'Stuck-up rich bitch' was a role that came to her naturally and scarily easy; that small part of June's soul that was, somewhere deep down, still functioning, was hurt and the only way of dealing with the renewed rejection was by flaunting money at every corner.

Healthy? No.

Numbing and paralyzing like a good dose of laudanum? Definitely.

After the appointment at the shamelessly expensive coiffeur, June ambled through the city, temporarily forgetting that her new car, a flashy Porsche, was at her disposal. She had had her Impala towed to some storage place where she would never have to look at her again; but to have her munched to mousse, that was something June hadn't been able to do yet. It seemed her soul was still attached to her with some spider's net thin strings, maintaining a last, frail lifeline.

June caught herself turning her attention to any tall man passing her.

'Silly girl, what do you expect? A prince in shining armour as a solution to all your fucked up problems?' She huffed at herself bitterly.

As June waited in line at Starbucks to get her fat-free latte, she wondered philosophically and not without wistfulness: 'Is there a place where the shattered princesses go after they died? A cemetery for broken dreams?'

* * *

June had her legs propped up on the railing of the balcony, whiskey glass in hand, and looked over the city. Thousands of lights shining up into the black sky, thousands of lives surrounding her, but she felt alone.

In this wistful, unguarded moment, June trapped herself into thinking of what could be. If she hadn't lost her family, if her mother hadn't cursed her, if Sam never got his soul back, if Sam had always had his soul, if she hadn't run off the way she had and known Sam with a soul…

'Well, this ain't helping,' June growled as she noticed her thoughts ended up revolving around Sam. She poured herself another shot, downed it and refilled again.

"So, what are you going to do with your life, June?" She asked herself out loud. "Hop from one five-star hotel to another, try drowning your worries in alcohol and hope you'll get an early death by liver cirrhosis, or just jump off the balcony right away?"

A light breeze tangled with her hair, just as her skin felt coated by ice. Uninterestedly, June leaned forward and looked at the ghoul passing under her on the street.

June shrugged, leaned back and wondered if maybe she should pick up smoking to speed up her death.

* * *

The next morning, June picked up a new outfit from her boutique bags scattered all over her hotel room. Shopping for expensive things was a new habit she'd picked up, mostly to draw the line to the days spent in comfortable jeans and band shirts, leather jacket to match her attitude and dusty biker boots.

So now, she slipped into dark blue Dolce&Gabbana skinny jeans, a creamy silken top with a bow and a black blazer to match her black five-inch heels. Dressed like that, she minced to breakfast and picked at her fruit salad. She'd lost her appetite, or rather, she felt the need to eat little to fit into the slim cut designer clothes.

"Excuse me, Miss."

June looked up at a handsome man in his mid-twenties. Short, dark blonde hair and pretty grey eyes. "Would you mind if I joined you for breakfast?"

"Please," June gestured toward the chair opposite her. A flirt wouldn't hurt.

"I'm William."

"Alexandria." The sound left a weird aftertaste on her mouth, but she couldn't bring herself to say June. That name was reserved for… well, for another life. It was reserved for Sam.

"Well, Alexandria, I couldn't help but notice you're always eating alone, and I wonder how that can be."

June smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, as it never did these days, "Maybe because you never got up the courage before to join me."

"I wasn't sure if maybe your boyfriend might show up suddenly."

"Highly unlikely."

"Well, then, what do you say we have dinner tonight?"

"I should warn you, Will; I've got an expensive taste."

"I think I've got the means to match your taste, Alexandria."

'Welcome back to the world of superficiality, and congratulations on inviting yourself back in, you stupid bitch,' June thought bitterly.

Then again, this was so much easier than to think of what she'd left behind.

"You look beautiful, Alexandria," Will purred as he pushed her chair back for her.

"Thank you," She replied simply, too busy for big words; busy with wondering if Sam would compliment her, now that he had a soul.

'June Hallberg, masochist of the year,' She thought bitterly.

"What brings you to San Francisco?"

Broken dreams and a broken heart, would have been the terrifyingly honest reply. One that June wasn't ready to give, let alone admit to herself. "Recreation. I needed to get away."

"Don't we all." Will smiled warmly and refilled her glass.

The evening was pleasant enough, but June couldn't help but be reminded of the reasons why she'd left this life in the first place. Will was nice, sure, and their conversation was entertaining enough, but it wasn't the real thing.

Money here, luxury there and skiing vacation in Austria, that was all very nice, but it didn't necessarily lure June's lost soul out. And she was nearly starting to think that it was a mistake leaving the Winchesters so soon, Sam especially. Soul or not.

June hated being in the dark, and she was standing in absolute obscurity about who Sam, the man she'd felt happiest with in a long time, _really_ was. She was damn tempted to just invite Will back to her room to fill that emptiness she felt.

Hell, why not? It wasn't like she had to answer to anyone. Maybe he could erase the burning feeling on her skin where Sam's touch still lingered on her.

June wanted to forget, completely. Nothing left behind.

* * *

**To make up for this filler, I promise the next chapter will be extra-long. ;)**

**Oh, and I've got news: Seeing as I'm a sad sucker for soulless Sam (lots of S in there...), I couldn't just let him off without his 'happy' end, so I'm writing an alternative ending to this story, it should be up soon. I'll keep you posted. :) **

**Thanks for all your lovely support! :)**


	18. Dreams Of Butterflies

**Thank you for all your amazing feedback, favorites and alerts, I was totally blown away and genuinely happy that you like the story! :) Your support means so much to me and I'm grateful that you've given it in such abundance. :) **

**As promised, this chapter is extra long, and there'll be an epilogue up real soon. **

* * *

Something held her back last minute; her pride be praised.

"Are you free tomorrow night?"

"Night or evening?"

"I'll take both if I can."

June wondered what to reply. Sure, she could brush him off now, clinging to better times and hoping for a brighter future to come; but she'd left it behind her already and didn't care. "Let's just see how the evening goes, then you might get the night as a bonus," She smiled, kissed his cheek and stepped out of the elevator.

William smoothly followed her.

"I can find my own hotel room without a navigation system, Will."

"Wouldn't want to take the risk of you getting lost."

"Smooth way of finding out my room number."

Will grinned sheepishly in reply, and June stamped him off as just another man incapable of _not_ underestimating her. There would be a lot more of those along her way, June sighed inwardly.

'Why didn't I stick with the one who didn't?'

The next second, June already cursed herself for that thought. Had she spoken it out loud, she might have bitten her tongue off to make sure she'd never voice it again.

"Well, thank you so much for your concern, but surprisingly, I got to my room without getting kidnapped or taking a wrong turn," June stopped abruptly and looked at Will coolly.

"Good to know for future reference," He just replied, kissed her on the lips, not seeing June's not quite so amused face at that, and walked down the hallway, back to the elevator.

Whether he meant her room number or her orientation skills, she didn't know and didn't even feel the desire to.

'Well, at least, he got the hint that he would so not get any tonight,' June thought dryly, stuck the key into the lock, turned it and stepped into her room, tossed her purse into the corner and shrugged out of her coat.

"Nice place, though for the money it costs, they should really get safer locks."

June nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the so familiar voice. She hit the light switch, and really, there Sam stood.

"Jesus Christ, Sam, you scared the fucking crap out of me!"

"Sorry. Kind of, anyways. I somehow had the feeling you wouldn't have opened had I knocked."

June averted her eyes, not wanting to admit he was right. Now the shock had worn off, she found herself uncomfortably close to feeling something in the ice desert that was her heart.

"How'd you find me?"

"Dean put a tracking device in your car. Two, actually."

"There goes Sir Trustworthy of the year."

"Alternatively, I could have just tracked your cell phone." Sam shrugged. "Or followed your credit card trail."

"Wow, you just gave compulsive controlling disorder another dimension."

"I hate breaking this to you, June, but demons don't even need to go through that hassle to find you."

"Huh. You think I can order demon protection at the reception?"

"Unless they dilute the 300$ a bottle champagne with holy water, I doubt it."

June flinched slightly; she surely hadn't expected Sam to be just as witty and quick in come-backs as without a soul.

"Last time I checked, decadence isn't the best self-defence," Sam concluded. He almost hadn't believed it when he found out where June had ended up; he'd much rather have her sleeping under bridges than in places like this. It was the worst June could have done; because, Sam knew, she hated herself for it. She loathed herself for spending the money she had so detested before; self-loathing wouldn't make her heal anytime soon.

And Sam had his answer to the question what he felt for June.

"Oh, sweetheart, this isn't even _close_ to the decadence I'm capable of."

"I'm sure," Sam said, unimpressed. "Though I fail to understand why you'd compensate your lack of a working soul with flaunting your wealth, becoming not unlike your mother in ignorance. If that's what you want, though, I'll just get out of here."

'Fuck,' June thought, 'He hit the exact one point I'm vulnerable.'

Actually, it were several of her weaker spots combined: Her pride, hurt at the suggestion of her living off her father's money – which she was. Her family issues – her mother had not only infused her with poison, but also turned her into a cold-hearted bitch by her betraying everything June had formerly believed in. And finally, her most guarded chink in the armour: Sam himself. His being here to help her, despite what had happened between them in the past.

Really, all June wanted to do is corrode him out of her life for good so she wouldn't have to worry about her maybe actually liking him with his soul.

June had reached the end of her strength and ability of self-denial, though.

"You're not fighting fair," June pressed out weakly.

"It's the only way of getting to you," Sam said softly, almost regretfully.

"Why even make the effort?"

Sam looked June up and down, taking in the tightly fitting designer dress that aged June by easily five years, but not in a good way. "Those clothes look wrong on you."

June wanted to snap back that it was no damn business of his, but all that came out of her mouth was a docile: "I know. Kind of hard to breathe in them, too."

"I would think so, yeah."

June suddenly felt weak and tired. "Why'd you come for me?" There was no demand in her whisper, just the full extent of her self-consciousness.

"To see if you're alright."

June wanted to flaunt her best snappy attitude, wanted to keep that caring Sam away from her and didn't want to let his gentleness get to her. She didn't want to admit that she was as drawn to him with a soul as she had been without one.

All that came out of her mouth, though, was a broken whisper: "Why would you care? I haven't exactly done anything to deserve it."

Sam would have never thought he'd ever see the tough June fidget uncomfortably, to see her unsure of herself and almost vulnerable. It only assured him that he was right: what June had done wasn't her, not truly her, anyways. It had been self-protection to keep herself from getting hurt further.

He felt sympathy. But that wasn't all.

"June. Let me help you."

"With what? I'm fine."

"You surely don't look like it." Sam said softly, and it was exactly that tenderness that made June finally break down.

"Because I'm not," She choked out, the lump in her throat threatening to take over, "I'm seriously screwed, and honestly, I'm scared. I feel so dead inside, and it seems there's nothing I can do…It's all wrong, Sam. _I'm _all wrong."

Sam felt tender care and admiration.

"No, June, you're not," He carefully pulled her into his arms, as if scared of breaking her, or fearing she might pull away. She didn't, though, she closed her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his chest. "It's okay, June."

Feeling him gently stroke her head, some of all the tears June had bottled up inside finally spilled over, if quietly, despite her best efforts of holding them back. Tears she hadn't spilled over her brother and father, and all the other people close to her that had died. Tears she hadn't spilled for her ruined life, her destroyed dreams and her unkind fate. Tears she hadn't cried out of empathy. Tears she hadn't spilled for herself when she would have had every reason to.

Silently those few tears washed away some of her pain and fear, and she even felt a little better after that, though a long way from good. Maybe she'd have to accept that she never would be truly alright; maybe her soul had taken irreparable damage.

"Sorry," June brushed a hand over her tear-stained cheeks.

"You don't have to be." Sam quietly replied, mesmerized by the sight of tears on June's face. Not quite an every-day sight.

He felt protective instincts kick in hard.

"Geez, do you have any idea how strange it is having you care and not have twist my weakness against me?"

"I've got a vague notion, yeah." Sam fastened a lose strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you have any idea how strange it is to see you finally, if tentatively, admitting your feelings?"

June huffed as she tried a smile. "I've got a vague notion, yeah."

Sam smiled winningly at her, and June felt her heart rate increase. That was weird and most unwelcome.

"Why can't I care, Sam?" June asked, back to her usual cool tone of hers that sounded like sleet felt.

"You can."

"No, I can't… I mean, I didn't even blink at you going to kill to keep your soul out, hell, I encouraged you to… I somehow don't think that was morally correct."

"It wasn't," Sam said, though without reproach. He could hardly be mad at her for that; not when he was just as ready to kill for his own sake. "But it wasn't your fault, not really."

"No? Because last time I checked, there was nobody pushing me."

"June, you lost your family and had to find out your mother was an egocentric psychopath. Nobody can just come out of that unscathed."

"I'm starting to believe my mother is the core problem of everything… I mean, Sam, I … all my life I tried living values like love, faith and whatnot for her sake, just to find out it never meant anything…I think I just never was able to feel and care in the first place."

The Devil himself knew what made her spill what little she knew about her inner life.

"I don't think so, June. Look, all your life, you never actually had your mother teaching you all that, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So it never depended on her, June. It was only ever you who was having those goals and who tried keeping your family together. You never needed anyone, least of all your mother, to show you that, because it was all _you_."

June nuzzled her cheek into his palm as he caressed it lightly. His touch felt right, as one of the few things that ever did.

"I think all you need to get your soul back to work is a little guidance."

"You sound awfully sure, Sam," Her voice was brittle, and Sam wanted nothing more but to make sure she'd never be hurt again; God knew why, but he cared about June in a way he hadn't cared about a girl in a long, long time. He could almost believe he was starting to fall in love with her.

"I am. Because I'll be there to make sure of it."

June looked up at him, and it must have been the first time her blue eyes were not only watery, but also vulnerably looking. "Why, Sam? Why would you bother with me? I mean, we might have had our moments in the past, but we weren't really ourselves and all… And my 'soul' isn't one that can get plugged back in just like that. It's practically been torn apart inside of me."

"Guess we better find the pieces and put it back together, then."

His confidence sounded so reassuring, June was almost willing to believe him. However, she'd been hurt to deeply and too many times to be one of easy belief. "That's still not a reason why you'd help me, Sam. So if it's not something mushy like guilt, conscience or I don't know what, then why? "

He scrutinized her closely and wondered how much he could tell her and how. Since sarcasm was the language June spoke best, he tried that one. "Because despite you being one hell of a piece of work, I care about you. Besides, I work with freaky shrews on a daily basis."

As hoped, June chuckled and a smile lit up her eyes. "That'll do." She took a contemplative breath before adding: "Thank you."

He brushed through her hair and looked deeply into her eyes, and thought to see a glimpse of the woman June might become if only she could be brought to let her soul free of its cage.

For the first time in an awfully long time, June actually felt hopeful. She mustered up a genuine smile and felt a tingly surge throughout her veins when Sam's lips met hers. This kiss wasn't anything like those they'd shared before; it was sweet, loving and holding promises of better times to come.

If June was honest, it scared her, as it wasn't something she knew and therefore wasn't sure how to handle. Then again, it felt too good to be anything bad, so she let it happen. Hell, this whole fluttery thing in her stomach made her feel funny; light-headed and happy. Whatever it was.

"You should catch some sleep, you look as if you need it," Sam said softly.

'Huh,' June thought, 'Without a soul, I'm pretty sure he'd have banged me on the spot.'

"Yeah," She nodded, "Are you… I mean, could you…"

"I'll stay."

"How'd you know I was going to ask that and not if you could put on the 'Do not disturb' sign on your way out?"

"Saw it in your eyes," Sam just said and sat on the couch with a cheeky grin.

"You need reading glasses." June growled, unwilling to admit he had guessed her inner wish. Deciding she might as well take the first little step first now, she filtered the sarcasm out of her tone and said: "Thank you. For staying."

Sam looked up, mildly surprised. "You're welcome." After a pause, he couldn't resist the jest: "I could call William Irons to take the night watch instead, if you'd prefer…"

"Have you been snooping on me?"

"Just checking your associates."

"Yeah, that's called snooping, Sam."

"I rather think of it as background checking."

"Don't you think that if he were a werewolf or something of equal sorts, I would have noticed?"

"Supernatural beings aren't the only monsters in the world, June."

June nibbled at her bottom lip and looked at Sam, more specifically; she looked into his hazel eyes that held so much depth now that his soul had returned. "Right. Um. Thank you, then. Again. But even if his background check came up with nothing, I'd still rather have you watch over my sleep."

"You won't get a four star menu from me, just so you're warned."

June let out a genuine laugh. "Trust me, I'd give anything for a bloody steak and a heap of fatty fries from some diner around the corner."

"You free tomorrow night?"

June allowed herself to dwell in that warm feeling inside of her. This wasn't awkward, this was right. She had been so worried about Sam being a completely different person with his soul, but really, he was just… perfect. She hadn't known until now that what she'd longed for wasn't cynical jabbing, but rather caring warmth with the occasional banter.

"Yeah, I am."

"No Russian oil tsar waiting for you with caviar canapés?"

"Several, actually, but they can all bite me and choke on their champagne for all I care."

Sam shook his head, "I don't understand you, June, but I don't think I really want to."

"Good, because honestly, I'd fail at explaining." June smiled and disappeared into the bathroom to get changed. After a short moment of consideration, she slipped on the silken nightdress. The raspberry colour suited her pale skin and the cut enhanced her curves, revealing a fair amount of bare skin but not screaming 'fuck me'. Subtle enough.

June let her hair topple freely over her shoulders for a change and only minimized her make-up, didn't take it off completely.

Why? Well, let's just say that she wanted to test how far Sam's newly found morality reached, and she also wanted to know how he felt about her…

'Geez, June, sneaky game again,' She arched an eyebrow at her mirror image and discarded her seductive plans. She wanted this to be a new start, which didn't mean starting it off like the previous one by wild sex.

Besides, she didn't even know if Sam still wanted her that way. The thought he might not was anything but pleasant; June believed the bitter taste in her throat to be called jealousy.

'June, stop thinking, now,' She hissed at herself and returned to the living room and headed for the adjoining bedroom. The two rooms were only separated by an ornamented archway.

"So, um, I'll head off to bed…" June gestured awkwardly toward the silken-sheeted king-size behind her. Damn it, where did her articulacy go lately with Sam around? That so wasn't okay with her.

"Yeah. I'll, um, be here."

"Right. Goodnight," June turned around before the heat would show on her cheeks.

"Goodnight."

Twenty minutes after the lights went out, June was still tossing around, though she tried limiting her movements to not make the sheets rustle.

She stared at the ceiling and counted sheep. She reached sheep number four when she lost her patience.

'This isn't going to work.'

June tried for falling asleep for another ten minutes, then she finally caved in. "Sam?"

"Yeah."

'Glad to see I'm not the only one not sleeping,' June thought not without relief. Throwing all her courage at the front, she sat up in bed and said quietly: "I can't sleep like this."

"Like what?"

In the faintest of light the San Francisco nightlife falling through the window front, June could see Sam leaning against the archway and looking at her. His chest was bare, and June bit back the short flare of desire.

If she wasn't all mistaken, she caught a smile playing around his lips.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

"Then why are you making me sit through the torture of explaining it?" June grumbled, feeling oddly reminded of old times. "I thought you had your soul back."

"I do. But let's just say that there were some things I took along to the next life."

"Great, and it had to be torturing me, of all things?"

"That was kind of the most fun thing."

"Unbelievable," June growled, "Either way… _please_?"

Sam waited.

"Please, Sam. I really don't want to sleep alone."

Since Sam had his soul back, he refrained from a comment pointing towards the fact that June had slept alone for practically her whole life. He would take their bantering only so far.

Besides, soul or not, he was only a man, too; resisting a barely dressed June, in bed, inviting him to join her, was completely above his pay grade.

June almost let out a sigh of relief when the bed dipped as Sam got under the sheets beside her.

"Thank you," She said sincerely and fell back into the cushions. Sleeping was out of the question still, though; she was burning up inside.

"Hey, Sam."

"Mhm."

"Isn't this kind of ridiculous?"

"What is?" Sam asked, though he had a fair idea of what June meant.

"Us, laying here in bed chastely after all we've done?"

"It wasn't _really_ us. Well, it was _you_, I guess. But – Never mind."

"Right."

The uncomfortable silence continued, and June wished she could force herself to sleep like she could force herself to keep breathing. Sam, meanwhile, tried hard to ignore not only his tender feelings for June but primarily the temptation of her rising and falling breasts. The ever so faint scent of blueberry and vanilla carried over to him, and he damned himself for remembering how soft her skin felt.

June was horrifyingly close to just turn around and kiss him, but didn't dare to. She didn't want to ruin this fragile peace.

This time, it wasn't her who made the first move, though.

She locked her arms behind his neck as Sam moved on top of her, propping his arms beside her head. June let out languorous sigh when Sam's hand brushed over her waist, slowly pushing up her nightdress.

She parted her lips to let his tongue slide into her mouth, and was positively surprised at the passion of his kiss. June wasn't sure what she'd expected, but surely not this heated but gentle _passion_.

She could have done fine kissing like this the whole night, if it wasn't for that other thing on her mind.

June let her hands wander over Sam's shoulders, over his arms and his chest; she knew it was silly, but to her, it felt like she was discovering his body all over again.

June kicked the covers off to move more freely, and slid her thigh up along Sam's until it was at his waist. Without further invitation, he ran his hand over the bare skin, sending tingling up and down June's spine with the roughness of his skin.

All the while, he never stopped kissing her.

June's hand travelled down his abdomen to the belt buckle. That's when Sam unwilling broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. "June…"

"Mhm." She so wasn't in the mood for talking, and if the bulge in Sam's jeans was any indication, neither was he.

"I shouldn't…" He ran a longing hand over her naked breast, "You're only eighteen…"

"I can't believe you're bringing that up," June didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, "You're concerned about that _now_? Sam, it doesn't matter, and even if it would, you didn't really think you could get me all hot and on edge just to leave me like that? Just pretend I'm older and go on kissing me. Preferably, not only kissing, either."

Sam grinned, pulled the dress over her head and said: "I just figured I should make the effort, for my soul's sake."

"Okay, effort appreciated, now let's get back at it," June impatiently pulled his head down to hers again and got lost in their newly discovered quality of kissing anew.

She continued her interrupted task of ridding Sam of his obstructing jeans, whereby she took particular time running her hands down his back before pushing them down. For some obscure reason she wanted to savour every second of this night. She later realized that this was the first time she actually _made love_ to someone.

From his hips, she drew her hands to his cock and stroked it lightly, not able to wait to have it inside of her. Sam let out a primal grunt at her touch that made him want to ram into her on the spot.

Not yet, though.

Moans escaped June's lips when Sam lightly brushed his thumb over her nipple and moved his lips from her mouth to the highly sensitive spot just underneath her ear. His hand moved from her breast down to her thong, removing it with decreasing patience compared to his previous movements.

Though no clothes were in the way anymore, Sam didn't enter her yet, although every fibre in him screamed to. Torturously slowly, he ran his hand along June's inner thigh, spreading her legs for him.

"Geez, Sam, pleasssse…" June wiggled impatiently underneath him, bucking her hips against his. The need to have him deep inside her nearly consumed her. "Need you, now…"

There was only so much a man could resist, even for the sake of prolonging the fun.

June groaned loudly when Sam finally, finally, pushed into her. His thrusts came hard and deep, but they were still different than before; not as vicious, but rather passionate.

"Sam…oh, God. Saaaam…" June arched her back, needing to be even closer to him and have him move far within her.

June felt so damn good, and at this point, she could have been seventeen, and this could be illegal, for all Sam cared. Her lush breasts were pressed against his chest, her flawless thighs wrapped around his hips and his name rolled off her full lips in moaning pants.

He remembered how great sex with her had been when he hadn't had a soul, but those memories were nothing on screwing June with his soul intact.

"Ah, fuck, June…!" He groaned.

June tipped her pelvis back, allowing Sam to ram into her even deeper, and he felt her walls clenching around him just as his thrusts came faster.

"Sam…yes, Sam!" June threw her head back and buried her nails in Sam's back in a futile attempt of having leverage against the ferocity of her orgasm hitting her harder than ever before. She screamed out her release and felt Sam come inside of her. After a few last thrusts, he pulled out of her, sinking into the bed beside her and pulling the covers over both their bodies as he did.

Then Sam did something June didn't expect, as he'd never done it before. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead tenderly. Also for the first time, June didn't want to flee the bed immediately after sex because she couldn't bear the intimacy of it; this time, June stayed and cuddled into Sam's arms. She snuggled her head into his shoulder and draped her arm over his chest.

June skidded up on the bed a little so that she could kiss Sam again, for she hadn't gotten enough of the pleasant warm feeling it sent through her body. Later June would realize that her desire to be close to Sam was called 'being in love'.

Sam was rather surprised by June's want for tenderness, as she had never shown anything like it before. He surely wouldn't complain, though.

Sometime around two in the morning, they fell asleep; Sam's arm around June and her snuggled up to his side.

June smiled to herself as, just before sleep overcame her, she realized how unbelievably comforting and good it felt to not sleep alone.

It was the same feeling she woke up with in the late morning, when she realized she wasn't alone in bed and that her and Sam's body were still entangled.

"You're beautiful when you smile, anyone ever tell you that?"

June looked up at Sam. "No, actually."

"Well, you're beautiful when you smile."

"I've got a beautiful reason to," June grinned, kissed his lips and then sat up, wrapping a silken sheet around her. "I'm starving."

"Living off of French Cuisine for days, I would imagine you are, yeah."

"I am just _so_ glad that you don't have any prejudices against the higher life."

Sam shrugged. "Not my thing."

June raised her eyebrows at him. "So I'm not your thing, either?"

"June, you're usually about as far away from a spoilt millionaire brat as can be, though you do have streaks when you are exactly that."

"I guess. We _are_ in a room that costs 800 a night."

"Why would anyone spend that much on a hotel room?"

"Beats me," June shrugged. "They do have pretty good room service, though…"

"I thought you had a breakfast date with Mr Irons." Sam wiggled his eyebrow.

"Dinner date, actually, but honestly, I just want a decent breakfast, get my baby back, and then I'd be happy to never see this place again."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"Holy crap," June muffled out through her scrambled egg.

"What?" Sam was immediately alarmed.

"I let out the Alpha vamp. A bloodthirsty, violent monster, and I let it out."

"Is that conscience knocking on your door?"

"Totally. And it's hitting hard. So not cool."

"It's a start."

"For what? Sam, how can you be cool with this?"

"Well, for one, I'm not judging you. Hell, I've done some seriously screwed stuff while my soul was gone. For another…Let's just say that when you're the one who sprang Lucifer free, it kind of puts a lose Alpha vampire into a smaller dimension."

"Huh," June swirled the coffee around in her cup, "Kind of have a point there. So, anyways, I was thinking."

"Well, that can't be a good sign."

"Behave, or you'll be living chaste the next two weeks."

"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't pull through with that."

"You should know better than to dare me."

"Alright, so, you were thinking."

"Wise call," June grinned, leaned back into the couch's comfy pillows and looked at Sam. They had somehow naturally decided to be together, without any words passed between them. God knew it would be an issue-laden relationship, but there was just no alternative, not for them. They needed to try to mend the damage dealt during the abstinence of their souls.

"Right, so, I don't know how Dean and you feel about going back hunting after all that's happened… but I just thought it'd be nice to take a break."

"Break, as in, two weeks off to Mexico, or as in, settle down and not hunt for a while?"

"Option two."

Sam didn't reply, and June knew it wasn't a decision he could just make like that. "Look, Sam, it's just that… I think that after all this crap, it would be good to take time off."

"Well, you got a point, but June… this isn't just about us."

"Please don't go all 'we've got people to save' on me. You saved the damn world, that ought to be enough for a while. Let other hunters take over the people saving for a bit."

Sam sighed, seeing how much work he had in front of him with June, but at the same time knowing it'd be worth it. "Though that surely is a point, it isn't mainly what I meant."

"Insightful."

Sam leaned forward and explained: "After Death had returned my soul, he told Dean to stay on the soul business."

"Alright, you lost me."

"Sorry, that's all I got."

June gnawed her bottom lip. Since she was never one to be held up at the details, she resolutely said: "Okay, fine. Then what about we find ourselves a home, live the sweet life and you don't hunt anything for a while unless Death tells you to?"

"You really think we could work that out?"

"Yeah, because I'll make sure of it."

"Okay," Sam nodded slowly, "But if we're going to live together, you'll need a functioning soul."

"Sure, think we can get one at Wal-Mart?"

"Start with cutting down your sarcasm."

"It's a part of me!"

"Yeah, a part that's grown a little too vicious and out of control."

"Oh, come on, Sam…"

"You're the one wanting to care."

"I didn't know that included doing without my beloved best friend!"

"Healthy doses, June."

June sighed mournfully. "Alright, fine."

"I'll keep you in check."

"Kind of feared you would, yes. Anything else?"

Sam opened his mouth but never got to say anything.

"Do not make me adopt a child or anything alike!"

"Well, that wasn't exactly on my mind, no."

"I won't volunteer in soup kitchens, either, you know."

"Would you just let me finish?"

June crossed her arms before her chest and looked at him daringly.

"I want you to go back to college."

That certainly threw June off. "What? Why?"

"Because you're not the type of person who can sit around at home spending money she hasn't earned herself. It'll drive you crazy, and since I'll be the one living with you, you'll take it out on me, so: Go to college, get a job, stay sane."

June smiled in spite of herself. "How'd you know that?"

"You kidding? I spent the past weeks with you, and despite what you might think, you're not that unreadable."

"Yeah, but the past weeks, you…"

"I know. It's almost like my soul connected the memories with sense and feeling, and that's kind of what comes out."

"Huh," June huffed. "Though I think I might miss our bickering-"

"You're not seriously telling me we have led merely civil conversations since I got my soul back?"

"Touché. Even the better," June grinned, "So, thank God, or fate, or whoever responsible, for that."

A smile crossed Sam's face briefly.

"What?"

"Just thought of a Shakespeare quote."

"I actually think I know which one."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really," June leaned forward, "If I got the right one, I get to pick the house."

"And if you don't, you're cooking for the whole first month."

June bit her lip. House or cooking. Damn.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking!"

"You have to think about whether you're willing to risk one month of cooking for the possibility of choosing the house we're going to live in?"

"Uh, yeah, and you know why? Because if I'm behind the hearth, there won't be much of a house left. I'll either set it on fire or underwater, pick your poison. I'd probably manage both, actually."

"Whoa, I guess we'll add basic survival training to the list."

"List of what?"

"Things of life that you got to learn."

"Don't overdo it, I'm just warning you. Otherwise I'll be dragging you to gala events as a revenge."

"Now you're fighting dirty."

"Dirty is the only thing on my mind, sweetheart," June grinned lewdly and kissed him passionately. "Anyways, back to Shakespeare."

June got up from the couch, careful not to trip over the remainders of their breakfast, and pulled out two pens and pieces of paper, handed Sam one of each and resumed her previous spot.

"I'm thinking three bedrooms," She mused as she scribbled down her quote. "And I want my own bathroom. Maybe a penthouse would be nice."

Sam just shook his head; he really didn't mind where they ended up living. All that mattered was that they would do it together.

"Manhattan, here I come," June sang as they switched papers.

When June smiled, though, it wasn't because she had indeed won the choice of their home, but because she'd been thinking the same Sam had.

_"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,  
Which we ascribe to Heaven."_

Sam watched the smile spread across June's pretty face and found himself wishing to never do without it again. So maybe this girl was unlike anyone he'd ever imagined himself to end up with, but that she was the right one nevertheless, there could be no doubt.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah."

"Thank you for coming for me," June leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, "Thank you for saving me."


	19. Epilogue: Bittersweet Symphony

Sam looked at her expectantly, and June bit her lip, trying hard to come up with the correct answer.

"So?"

"I'm thinking," June pressed out. She looked at the picture again, projected against the wall of their living room; three tiny puppies, looking at her with doe eyes. "Um… cute?"

Sam sighed patiently, "And what does it make you _feel_?"

June looked at the picture again. Nothing. "That I'm a cat person?"

"When I showed you cats, you said you were a dog person."

"Well, maybe I'm a goldfish person."

Sam pressed a button on the remote and another picture showed, this one of a crying child.

"Alright, I take it this one ought to appeal to my deeply rooted mother instincts."

"If you want to take it that far." Sam shrugged, leaned back and reached for his beer. "Alternatively, it could just appeal to your basic human instinct."

"Alright, fine." June thought hard on what it should make her feel.

"Don't think, June, feel."

"Hey, how'd you-"

"You have those two lines between your brows when you think." Sam grinned, which earned him a playful punch to his side and a kiss from June.

"Okay, fine. I feel… pity. And kind of want to help the kid."

"We're getting somewhere," Sam smiled, kissed the top of her head and skipped to the next image. It was a monkey.

"Eeeew, eeeew, next one, next one!" June screeched and buried her face in Sam's chest, draping his arm over her.

He chuckled quietly. "It's just a monkey, sweetheart."

"You _know_ I hate them! They scare me, dammnit. Skip to the next one!"

"Ah, getting to healthy fear, good."

"If you're not playing nice, I'll put on a clown suit."

"That's an acknowledged phobia."

"So is mine." June whined, still not diving up from under Sam's arm. "Is it gone?"

"Yes, darling, you can look again."

June sceptically opened one eye first, and when she indeed found the monkey gone, let out a relieved sigh.

"You're kind of cute when you're scared."

"I'm always cute." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Debatable. There are moments when you're sexy."

"Those better outweigh the cute moments."

Sam just smiled. "Back to work, sweetheart."

June sighed and studied the next photo, which showed a wildfire. "Is it awfully heartless to say I'm thinking of roasting marshmallows?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then forget I said that." June pondered for a moment. "Er… shock and sadness? Kind of feel bad for all the animals caught in the fire."

"Glad to see we're improving," Sam said and shut down the projector. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"What do you want?" Sam pulled her up from the couch.

"What do we have?"

"Seeing as you once again brilliantly failed at grocery shopping, not much." Sam's eyes twinkled amusedly.

"I'm learning. Slowly, admittedly, but surely. Anyways. That screams for take-away. We still haven't checked out that Indian place that opened last week."

Sam shook his head and laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just starting to believe that even if I can get you to feel bad for crying kids, I won't ever get you behind a hearth."

"Probably not, no, but why should I even try, seeing as that you're perfectly able of cooking?"

"Basic skills, June."

"Calling delivery service is a basic skill, too." June replied, unimpressed, and flipped through the piles of papers and brochures on the kitchen counter until she found the one of the new Indian restaurant.

Sam watched her amusedly. The girl brooding over the menu right now, probably debating whether to take butter chicken or tandoori, surely was a long way away from the cold-hearted bitch she'd been a few weeks ago.

To his surprise, Sam found that he didn't miss hunting as much as he expected. Maybe Dean and June had been right and he nearly needed the break. The fact there was nobody urging him to get back to family business surely helped; Dean was enjoying his own piece of apple pie with Lisa and Ben, living at the other end of town, and neither of them wasted a thought on hunting yet.

Sam was sure June played her role in that. Every day they spent together, Sam fell even more in love with her, and every day June discovered the lost pieces of her soul, she fell even more in love with him.

It was hard to miss the dire life on the road when all he wanted was right here.

"Should I take the butter or tandoori chicken?"

"Tandoori. You had butter last time."

"Really?" June looked up, amazed. "You remember that?"

"It was only last week, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but still…" Nobody had ever bothered remembering petty details like that for her before. And so another piece of her soul thawed.

* * *

"You know, June, for someone who's studying the effects of alcohol on a human body, you sure drink a lot," Sam teased as he poured June another glass of wine.

"Oh, be quiet," She reprimanded kindly, "At least, I cut out the whiskey." That was true; ever since she's moved in together with Sam, she hadn't touched hard liquor. Almost like her body didn't need it any longer.

"You know, Sam, I'm not even sure if I want to resume my medical career…" June confessed. "I don't know if it's what I want any longer."

Sam wasn't truly surprised. He hadn't believed medicine to be a field of work June belonged to, but hadn't interfered. "What'd you rather do?"

June lifted her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I've considered psychology, perhaps…"

"You sure that's better?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know if you poking around in other people's minds is really going to help humanity."

"I wouldn't poke around in their minds…" June defended weakly.

"No, but you wouldn't exactly help them, either, sweetheart."

"Okay, fine, I think you've got a point. Maybe I should stick to medicine, after all."

"What about law?"

"Law? Seriously?" June arched an eyebrow. "Kind of goes against family business, doesn't it?"

"As long as you don't end up a FBI agent, I think we're good." Sam shrugged, "Just saying, I can well imagine you in a courtroom."

June mused over that in her mind over and over again, trying the taste of 'law' on her tongue. "Isn't that rather your field of expertise, though?"

"Was." Sam replied without regret. He had at one point believed his future to lie in courtrooms, have a white picket fence and a wife with two kids at home; something along those lines, anyways.

"Regardless of what I end up choosing, what are you going to do?"

"Not sure yet." Sam shrugged; an occupation wasn't his main concern at the moment. Right now, he just wanted to taste life fully again.

"Just take your time before going back to hunting, okay?"

"Are you…_worried_?"

"Yes, I am. Worried about you," June admitted unfazed and not even blinking at her honest admittance of feeling. "I can't lose you, Sam. Not again."

Sam reached across the table and took her hands in his. "You won't, June."

June smiled, wistful because she knew she wouldn't be able to hold Sam forever, and hopeful because she knew their futures were intertwined.

"Care becomes you, you know," Sam said thoughtfully as he twirled a strand of her golden hair around his finger.

"That's because you're good for me."

"Seems to me like you're getting in touch with your romantic princess again."

June chuckled. "I guess so."

"What would my princess like to do tonight?"

June smiled. "Could we just stay in and watch movies?"

"As long as it's nothing like 'Sex and the City' again."

"Hey, it's a great movie!"

Sam just looked at her.

"Okay, so the plot sucks, but the clothes…!"

Sam still looked at her silently and with an ironic smile playing around his lips.

"Fine. Criminal Minds?"

"Sounds good."

"I'll even do the dishes." June beamed and took the take-out boxes away.

"Throwing out paper plates isn't technically doing dishes."

"Totally is, too."

Sam just chuckled and got the TV ready. The more June lost her biting edge to everything she said, the more carefree and lose she became, the more loveable she grew. Though surely without losing her sassy touch.

And it didn't only help _her_, but also made Sam stop from wanting to scratch at that itching spot in his brain... Every time June entered his field of vision or even his thoughts, he stopped wanting to break that wall down, because she reminded him once again that there was nothing that he could possible gain from taking that wall down. Everything he wanted was here.

"You want dessert?" June called from the kitchen.

"Depends, what do we have?"

"Well, despite my glorious defeat in the face of grocery shopping, we do have ice cream. And popcorn. And, oh, hey, pop tarts!"

Sam shuddered at the mere thought of the sticky sweet tarts. "Only you would think of considering _that_ dessert."

"Oh, come on, it ain't that bad…"

"Totally is, too," Sam mimicked.

"Pfft. Prude. Popcorn, then, I take it."

Two minutes later, June shuffled into the living room, a bowl full of popcorn in her one hand and a pop tart in the other. The sight of June in lose drawstring pants, shirt and sweater, her curls wildly flowing over her shoulders, shuffling into the room laden with TV dessert was unbelievably adorable and homey.

"What?" She asked demandingly as she took a bite of her raspberry pop tart.

Sam just couldn't help but kiss her before pulling her down with him onto the couch as the previews came on. In moments like these, she looked no older than her eighteen years, but Sam had long since passed the point of having concerns about her age. Though, truth be told, he did have scruples in the beginning, with his newly returned soul telling him she was too young.

June had kindly told him that was bullshit ("Sam, we've done it every way, every time of the day, every place a human could think of, and _now_ you're bothering about my age?"), and he wouldn't ask twice, since the last thing he wanted was lose her.

"Nothing. You just had one of your cute moments again."

"Oh." June snuggled close up to him. She'd become addicted to the feeling of having Sam's arms around her, how safe and worry-free it made her feel.

June never knew what it was that she was giving Sam in return that he stuck with her throughout it all; why he put up the enormous effort of showing her how to get her soul back on the rails again. She just knew that when she realized some years later that she was abundantly happy, going through life with a smile on her lips, it was all due to Sam.

"Hey, Sam…" June quietly started when they lay curled up in bed together that night.

"Mhm."

June took a deep breath, wondering if she should say a little prologue first or just get it out in the open. She decided the latter. "I love you."

Abruptly, Sam stopped tracing patterns on her skin and June feared she'd gambled away the lightness of their relationship, feared that she might have admitted feelings he didn't feel for her in return when he replied softly: "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Well, here I am, saying it, and I mean it."

She could feel the smile in his kiss as he brushed his lips over her forehead. "How convenient, since I happen to love you, too."

Needless to say, the sex they had that night was one of the best and passionate ever.

* * *

June woke up with a fuzzy feeling in her stomach. Stretching, she realized she had been smiling in her sleep, and that only increased her smile further.

Looking at Sam sleeping beside her, she thought it funny how the two of them had found each other and loved each other, despite the beginning of their relationship laying founded in soulless realms. Yet, they'd each found their soul one way or another and discovered they were made for each other, and made to save each other, too.

'Alright, June, lay off the dramatic romance,' She almost scared herself.

"Morning, sweetheart," She sang and brushed through Sam's messy hair as he woke up.

"You're in a good mood."

"You sound scared."

"Worried."

"About?"

"About whether you may have hidden some dead bodies in the backyard."

"We don't have a backyard." June stated matter-of-factly. They'd thought it a little over the top to buy a house for just the two of them, so they'd settled for a comfortable two-bedroom apartment. They really didn't need more.

Sam had been mildly surprised at June's modesty, but it was nothing compared to his amazement at how tastefully she'd furnished it. His little wildcat turned out to have a sharp eye for design, who knew.

"The fridge-freezer, then."

"Can't I just be happy that you love me?" June smiled softly.

Sam sat up and kissed his girlfriend lovingly. "That'll do for an explanation."

June responded devotedly to the kiss, but Sam broke away all too soon. "Dean's coming at 12."

"I don't have pie," June simply said, sulking slightly.

Sam chuckled. "You think we have at least enough supplies for a simple breakfast?"

"Well, there's always pop tarts." Unwillingly, June followed Sam out of bed. All she really wanted is curl right back into the warm sheets and drag him down with her, but he had that determined expression on his face again that told her mercilessly he wouldn't waver.

"I'd rather starve, thanks."

"Alternatively, you could just go grocery-shopping."

"Yes, soon as I'm back from this hunt, but you're coming with me."

"You know I don't-"

"Yes, that's why you're coming."

"Tyrant."

"Wuss."

June couldn't help but smile, which she tried to cover up by punching Sam's side. He exuberantly picked her up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen.

"So what's with this hunt?"

"Some kid up in Wisconsin claims he can see auras."

"Aha," June just said sceptically.

"You sound thrilled."

"Oh, I am. Driving to Wisconsin and back will take you, what, two days of driving? No stops included, that is, and then it'll be a couple of days more for you to solve whatever case there is."

"Yeah…?"

"So, you're going to ditch me for at least a week," June observed, not too happily.

Sam turned his attention from the scrambled egg to his girlfriend in surprise.

"Yes, that's a) discontent and b) longing you're hearing and c) I'm going to miss you."

Sam abandoned their breakfast to walk over to June, hoisted her up onto the counter and kissed her lovingly. Three months together, and she had confessed not only to loving him, but also to her wanting to be with him. Sam honestly hadn't expected her soul to thaw that quickly; what he didn't know was that so far, June's soul only worked for him. And slowly warming up to Dean, Lisa and Ben, too, but nowhere near as successfully as for Sam.

June locked her arms behind his neck and drew him closer. "Hey, Sam."

"Mhm." He kissed her again.

"I'm no cook, but I think the scrambled egg's scorching…"

"Mhm." Sam simply gave the pan a shove off the hearth and turned his attention back to June. She wrapped her bare legs around his waist and drew him closer, intensifying their kiss. Sam's hands slipped under her shirt and up to her bare breasts, since June had been too lazy to put on a bra this morning.

June moaned into his lips and her practised hands flew to his belt.

"Whoa, damn, that's a party I never wanted to see!"

Sam unwillingly broke away from June to shoot his intruding brother a death glare. "Nobody asked you to come in, Dean."

"You gotta learn to lock your doors."

"What for? You'd just pick the locks, anyways."

Dean just grinned.

"You couldn't have just given us ten more minutes, Dean, could you?" June ran a hand through her messy curls in a weak attempt of smoothing them.

"You kidding me? Ten more minutes and I'd have been scarred for life walking in on you two!"

"As if there's anything _you_ didn't do before."

"Kitchen counter actually happens to be a place I haven't-"

"Dean," June arched an eyebrow, "_Too much information_. So, you two are off to Wisconsin."

"You sound about as thrilled as Lisa had been."

June growled something ineligible and switched on the coffee machine. That's when Dean realized June really had gotten her soul back to work; she cared about his brother. _Truly_ cared.

Hell, by the enraptured look on her face, she _loved_ him.

For once, he didn't feel the need to tease her about her 'deep' relationship with Sammy. On the contrary, he was happy for both of them. After all the crap they've gone through, they really deserved having found their peace and love.

And Sam had had worse than damaged millionairesses with a radar for the supernatural.

"I'm not sure I like the smile on your face," Sam remarked with a sceptic side-glance at his brother.

"Don't worry, Sammy. Everything's perfect."

* * *

Some weeks later, when June came home from another attempt at grocery shopping, she found a note on the table waiting for her.

_Tigress__, _

_Dean and I went to check out a case just one state over, I'll be back by tomorrow. _

_I love you. _

_Sam_

June had to smile and almost forgot the fact that Sam had abandoned her yet again. These soul searches increased lately, and it was a development she most strongly disliked. On the other hand, if Sam and Dean wouldn't be working on that soul business for Death, he might just plug Sam's soul back to hell… and that was the seriously last thing June wanted.

Next to the note lay a pack of brochures and another piece of paper with Sam's messy handwriting: _Thought this might be something for you, love. _

With a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and the stack of papers in the other, June settled onto their couch and got to reading. It was information on an art college nearby and its course of studies.

By the end of the day, June knew what she was going to do about college and tried figuring out how Sam could know her so well as that he was able to point her the right direction for her future when she hadn't know it herself.

'Guess that's love,' June sighed to herself, and wasn't even that uncomfortable with the cheesiness of it.

Then she let out a sigh at the prospect of sleeping alone tonight, but comforted herself with: 'Bittersweet ending's better than a bitter one.'

June switched on the TV and pulled her laptop towards her to create the illusion of company. Thinking Sam would never know since he wasn't around, she poured herself a glass of whiskey, too.

While CNN babbled something about domestic affairs, June discovered two new emails in her inbox. One was from Sam, updating her on the case they were on.

_My sweet __Athena,_

_Case turned out to be nothing. Dean's intent on driving home right away, but after the amount of beer and Johnny Walker he downed tonight, I won't let him near a steering wheel. We'll be back early tomorrow morning, though. _

_I've gotta go keep Dean from starting a bar brawl, I'll talk to you later. _

_And quit the whiskey, June. _

_I love you._

June shook her head smilingly. She smiled a lot lately, and found that she liked it. Said smile faded when she opened the next email.

_Alexandria,_

_Where on earth are you? We haven't heard from you since your father died and your brother disappeared, and that was half a year ago! __We're worried about you, it's not like you to just ditch everything._

_And why'd you sell your house? __It was such a beautiful villa! _

_Look, sweetie, we understand that it must be really hard on you, but you can't shut yourself off at the __Côte d'Azur or wherever you are._

_Why don't you come to the charity gala next week? You've got to start back into your life someday, might as well do it with glitz and glamour. There'll be an auction and a four-star menu, I've heard a French star cook's responsible for the catering. _

_Call me and we can discuss the details, I've already found the perfect dress! _

_Cassandra_

Cassandra, one of her so-called friends from another life. The thought of going to a snobby charity event, conversing with stuck-up rich folks and what other hocus-pocus they'd come up with was as abhorrent to June as a root treatment. It hadn't always been, but it was now.

Moving in together with Sam had been an awakening; June had realized she had never truly lived before, and the prospect of returning to that world, to be ripped back into old patterns… no. Her place was here, not under crystal chandeliers.

June was certain that Cassandra had only written to her because the Hallbergs were still on the guest list, seeing as the event in question had been planned last year, and not out of true concern about her personally.

So she did the only thing sensible: Deleted Cassandra's email without replying.

June yawned and typed a quick reply to Sam before she'd head off to bed.

_Sam, darling, _

_We__ ought to get a dog. Or rather a cat, they're less messy. _

_What I'm saying is: It's damn lonely without you. Give Dean a good kick in the ass from me when he wakes from his comatose hang-over for keeping you away from me longer than really necessary. _

_No, I take that back, I want to do that personally. _

_If you think you can make it back by 9 o'clock tomorrow morning, I'll have a breakfast waiting for you. _

_No need to smile__ so amusedly, I can totally do it. Even without setting everything on fire, promise. I went grocery shopping today, and they didn't even call the SWAT-team this time. So, you see, I'm improving. _

_Fine, I still have no clue how much of what we need, but other than that, it was an okay day__ without big events. _

_Alright, so maybe I __told off the old lady for trying to skip the line with the words: 'Being old doesn't justify being rude and that she should move her ass back to the end of the line' and then I kindly told the middle-aged woman that reading all those highlander novels she was buying won't enhance her sex life, either. _

_To which she__ unkindly shot back that I should return home to my horde of brats, to which I had the witty rejoinder of remarking that it takes sex to have kids and she wouldn't know about that and never would if she continued reading those trashy novels. We parted after I excused myself that I had to get back home to have dirty hard-core sex with my boyfriend. I sadly didn't quite get her hysteric rejoinder to that. _

_That was it, though. Relatively peaceful, right? _

_Oh, and I__ snapped at the guy in the parking lot to stop treating his wife like his personal errand-boy and to lay off the beer and even made the productive suggestion of him cooking a candle-light dinner for her instead. _

_I think that really was my mischief for this day, though. _

_Except for the part where the guy turned around and promise__d I'd regret intervening with his business, to which my response was a detailed description of my tall, muscular, sexy boyfriend and that he even served time in jail and would put up with his pack of brothers any day._

_He mumbled something about mafia, mob and some other stuff, but I told him my boyfriend would kick anyone's ass any day and would get his brother for moral support if necessary. _

_So… see the breakfast as reparation for coming damage. __And I really improved my honesty skills telling you all that, so all in all, it was a good day. _

_I love you__. _

Hundreds of miles away, Sam was about to shut down his laptop to get his three hours of sleep when June's mail landed in his inbox.

"Geez, Sam, enough with the work already."

"Trust me, this is so much more challenging than work," Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or shake his head in despair, "That girl's going to kill me."

Dean leaned down to read June's mail. "Dude, does she always write novels?"

"Actually, this would be more of an excerpt. But considering you think the imprint of 'Busty Asian Beauties' is of novel-ish length…"

"I do not!"

Sam shook his head. Discussing literature with Dean was as productive as convincing a werewolf to live Vegetarian.

Dean chuckled. "You got yourself quite a handful with June, Sammy."

Sam was rather surprised Dean didn't tease him about the lewd suggestions in June's mail. "No kidding."

"She's kidding about the mafia thing, though, right?"

"With June, you never know."

"At least, it won't get boring, tiger," Dean gave Sam a brotherly clap on the shoulder and headed off to bed. "Of course, it's not like our lives aren't exciting enough…"

Sam shook his head smilingly and went to bed. As contradictory as it may sound, June gave him peace. Stability. Love. Family. A reason to never scratch that itching wall.

* * *

Sam ended up getting his promised breakfast, and it was delicious. June had to laugh at his surprised expression, it was Oscar-worthy.

"I told you so."

"Yes, but you also told me you'd make your peace with the neighbours."

"It's not my fault they're annoying!"

"Because they're turning their weird TV show up a little too loud?"

"Yeah!"

Sam sighed and looked at June lovingly. "Sweetheart, just, as an estimate: How loud do you suppose _we_ are when we…?"

"_That's_ natural." June interrupted matter-of-factly. "Reruns of Magnum at full volume are not natural. And we don't _normally_ do it for one and a half hours."

"No, but we do do it more than once a week."

"Alright, fine. I'll try not snapping at them again. But I won't go over apologizing, either."

"It's always 'haggling' with you, isn't it?"

"Yup."

"You think I could get you to fully agree just once?"

"That'll highly depend on what you want me to agree to."

Sam was tempted to ask her to marry him then; but he didn't. They'd have all the time in the world, and he wouldn't try tying June down too soon. He knew it would go against her independence and free spirit to marry; and he could wait. He _would_ wait, because June was worth it, and they didn't need a marriage certificate to make their love real. They already knew it would be forever.

"Things are looking up, love," Sam grinned and kissed her.

"Yes," June agreed honestly. She'd walked some seriously dark realms in her life, but they faded away with every day she spent with Sam. Finally, she'd found her peace. "They are. And they're never going down again."


End file.
